Rebirth
by Wood.White
Summary: She had been bred like an animal and raised as a monster, all in the name of the madness of science and progression. Whereas her initial captors deemed her a tool, her enemies deemed her a threat. Both wishes to exploit her but with separate motives in mind. Separating the lies from the truth will prove itself challenging, and differentiating enemies from allies: even harder.
1. Chapter 1: Idealism At Its Worst

**Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers**

 **Warning: Avengers AU**

 **Alternative storylines/plot, Alive!Pietro, Neutral/Good! Loki, Neutral/Good!Ultron**

* * *

 _ **Chapter 1: Idealism At Its Worst**_

* * *

 _"Those who teach us the most about humanity aren't always human."  
_ _\- Donald Hicks_

* * *

Baron Wolfgang Von Strucker was always known for being a pragmatic idealist whenever the matter involved his views about the enhancement of the future, or specifically, _Hydra_ itself. It had been so for the last decades or so, or for as long as he had been a part of the organization which provided him with a purpose. Even his valuable Dr. List knew as much but was even more aware of how standing as an obstacle between his leader's ambitions would solely result in his ultimate annihilation and nothing less. As such, he made sure to stay perfectly clear of his goals without unnecessary interference unless it involved the well-being if their investments.

To think that something as great and sophisticated as Hydra once stemmed from such a meek and subservient organization as S.H.I.E.L.D. was hard to believe, especially for whoever had served them long enough to view them as kings of the coming world. There was a significant difference between Hydra and S.H.I.E.L.D., however, which became the ultimate reason why they split up in the first place. Whereas S.H.I.E.L.D wanted to protect the world and make peace with whatever damned creature and abomination that wanted to join their cause, Hydra's objective went even further than that. They wanted to take advantage of the opportunities they were given to the fullest potential, going as far as to induce domination over every existing being in their world and more. Killing few in order to evolve many was part of their method for survival and progression. Nothing was taken for granted.

That's when the organization took in an equally idealistic but effective young professor who would become the apprentice to Dr. List. A man that showed potential in joining the cause of Hydra with an almost blind loyalty to the organization. A prodigious Sokovian citizen by the name of Wilhelm Jeraslovik, who, already during his first day, revealed himself to be exceptionally bright and intelligent even on Dr. List's level, if not beyond. The man was an experienced astrophysicist and doctor but wanted to go further and make himself of sufficient use to the rest of the world as well, not just an insignificant amount of people. He wanted to become better, and better he became.

Years passed and Jeraslovik served as an excellent addition to Hydra, already standing on top of the most other doctors in the organization. His work was brilliant, that of a true genius, and he knew that himself all-too-well. He was not in need of being told that by anyone, not even his own wife, whom he barely seemed to pay any attention towards. The Baron found his presence to be required if anything involving their experiments was supposed to go well. The doctor always knew what he was doing, even without the guidance of his initial mentor, who eventually became nothing more but a fellow doctor on the laboratories.

Then came the day where they were finally able to retrieve specimens from the Battle of New York, and their experiments evolved beyond that level they had initially thought were impossible or highly unlikely. With the aid of those, and the technology they were granted from what they had been able to retrieve, their weapons increased drastically in efficiency and it didn't take them long to exploit the opportunities to the last inch of the straw. The thought of how pacifistic S.H.I.E.L.D. had been as to let these chances pass them by were not plausible. Jeraslovik expressed distaste for their former associates by how unmotivated they were about evolving the future.

Then came the Scepter, the brink of their strength. Jeraslovik became, mildly said, fanatically obsessed over the new device as if it was his own offspring. He would stay up days and days on end studying it and figuring out every ounce of knowledge the object could provide him with which wouldn't risk his life. After some time, and numerous of experiments, he became the source of the conclusion that living creatures could be exposed to the powers the Scepter withheld and absorb its potential energy to their own advantages. That was how the experiments were initially utilized, and that became how their ultimate weapons were created. They had reached a new point in evolution, as the Baron preferred to address it as. A New Age. _Their_ age. The Age of Hydra.

They began to conduct experiments on willing human specimen who wished either to become stronger, either out of pure self-centeredness or because they had their own plans on how to use the powers they were granted by the Scepter. Hydra wasn't foolish enough to allow them to walk freely amongst civilization if they succeeded, as they could pose as threats if that was to happen, but simultaneously fortunately and unfortunately for them, none made it out alive with the exception of two. Whereas the rest of their human subjects were proclaimed deceased due to the lack of survival odds against the inhumane forces they were exposed towards, there were two that did not allow the mistress of Death to claim their lives so easily.

The Twins. Wanda and Pietro Maximoff.

Baron Strucker had personally met these individuals and had to admit that he found their determination and the unbreakable will to be admirable. This, perhaps, became the essential instinct which kept them alive in the first place. After all, based on what he knew about them from the start, their experiments were not the first ordeals the twins had to succumb to and survived. That made them the ideal candidates. Miss Maximoff had gained a range of unique abilities, all of which would serve to Hydra's objective, whereas her brother had gained the advantage of unlimited speed and the incapability of being stopped by anything when engaging in the velocity. However, they were both unstable after the conducted experiments were deemed successful, and thus had to be temporarily contained afterward.

Although the Baron had viewed this as a favorable outcome on Hydra's account, he was vaguely surprised to see that the young doctor Jeraslovik appeared to be dissatisfied with the results the Scepter had provided them with. When confronted with this dissatisfaction by Dr. List, Jeraslovik expressed his disgust and stated that the twins were but cheap drafts of the real perspective and that Hydra was able to get further ahead. The man was close to mental at this point, but he did have his reasons for being so, and the Baron agreed to some degree with his proposal. Jeraslovik said that he would come up with a plan to ensure the future wholly with something standing superior to the twins in every way.

The Baron agreed to this idea and allowed the man to continue his research whereas he himself continued to observe the twins' capabilities as followed. He was satisfied on his own account, but what happened nearly a year after the young doctor had announced his plan to him, Jeraslovik finally presented Strucker with something he never foresaw in a thousand years: A _child_. An infant girl that had just escaped her mother's womb, still coated in blood and screaming to the point where it physically ached Strucker's ears.

He did not understand the meaning of this and demanded an explanation as to why Jeraslovik had presented him with such. Jeraslovik had wrapped the child in a meek blanket, not nearly enough to ensure the warmth the infant needed and he was smiling as if he had just uncovered the most valuable source of beneficial outcome in a millennium. The Baron could see it clearly on his face that day, a man with a lack of sanity but with a mind of unequaled intellect. A dagger pointed at both ends, shedding the blood of both its opponent and its wielder.

Jeraslovik proposed the idea that if they exposed a newly-developed child to the Scepter's powers, it would manifest much sooner and grow at the same pace as the vessel. The man confirmed that it was, indeed, his own child he was presenting the Baron with. The mother of the child did not survive past the delivery and died shortly after the child was out, but he acted nonchalant about her demise and did not even as much mention a name. It did not matter either way. He seemed frantic about the idea, eyes bloodshot due to the deprivation of sleep and skin as pale as the moonlight itself.

Wolfgang Von Strucker had a child of his own, a young boy that stayed with his mother far away from his father's work, and despite his ambitions, Strucker did have his own morals which he chose to abide by. It involved keeping children out of their conflicts if they could avoid it, but the young doctor's words had somehow intrigued him to look past that sentimental edict and look at the bigger picture. If what Jeraslovik had said was true, that they would somehow be able to grasp the greater power through the likes of a child, then they would go further beyond what they initially pictured themselves. The twins were, indeed, _drafts_ , albeit valuable. But this could be the key to a true insight of the future.

Through a various range of experiments and procedures, they were successfully able to ensure the infant's survival through the exposure to the Scepter and the child made it out alive. The possibility of such a small creature making it when well-grown adults did not seemed absurd, but fate proved them wrong once more before they drew their firm conclusions over the matter. It took some time before the powers developed, but as soon as the girl was able to stand on her own two legs, they accompanied that self-developed skill. Like always, Jeraslovik grew obsessed with the idea of his own flesh and blood becoming the very Eve of their New Age, and it went much further than unhealthy, but as long as he remained efficient to the cause, Strucker did not complain.

The child was cared for by a woman named Nathalia during the first six years, but only to ensure that the child developed her expected skills such as coherent speech and minimal understanding of the world around her. However, the length of her 'world' was limited to the base of Hydra and not an inch further. If they were to keep her there, they would have to make sure that she remained oblivious towards the outside world until the day she was to finally faced and fulfill the purpose of which they had selected for her.

However, things became problematic and the caretaker became too attached to the child, much more than they would have preferred it to remain. She went as far as to try and take her away from there, but they were able to catch her before she managed to get out. She screamed at them as they dragged her away, calling them monsters and saying that they were nothing more but bastards wearing the skins of people. Quite melodramatic and amusing, but no less inconvenient and they made sure that she was silenced properly. They feared that this change of events had somehow affected the child, _their_ child, but fortunately for them, she was too young to grasp the situation and remained the same naive child she always was, much to their relief.

After that, no caretaker was assigned to the child. She would stay in the cell which they had provided her with, the same cell she had been held captive in since the day she survived the exposure of the Scepter. Those four walls were the ones she had grown up within, and it was inhabited by little but a firm yet tolerable bed and a couple of toys to ease her curiosity. They deemed that she wasn't in need of becoming literate, as it would serve her no advantage of which they could think of, and she would be served three mealtimes a day and occasional showers to keep her hygiene in check.

When Nathalia had been removed, Jeraslovik presented himself personally to the child for the first time since infancy, introducing himself as a friendly man who would take care of her. In reality, he exploited these moments to gain her trust and secure her loyalty to him. A child was so much easier to convince than older humans were, and this provided him with the ideal opportunity to test her abilities for himself. Not long enough, she came to view him as a parental figure, a dependant associate in her life. The kind of father all fathers should be, and the best part was that Jeraslovik knew it.

They started to test her limitations, exposing her to further experiments as she came of age. They were painful and more than often caused her to scream in agony, but it wasn't anything she wouldn't do for her father. They witnessed that, true to the doctor's prediction, the child was capable of going beyond the twins. Her speed remained that of an ordinary child, but her mind became exceptionally well-adept to the circumstances. She had reaped more of the Scepter's powers than they initially believed to be possible for a child, let alone a human being.

However, she became emotionally withdrawn, silent, unresponsive to anyone but her father. Her existence was entirely dependent on him for support. Without him, she would've gone mad a long time ago. Her sanity was limited to the confined space she called her home, but with the help of Jeraslovik's intervention, they were able to keep her from falling in the debris of her own mind. The Scepter and all of the procedures they had gone through with her had been demanding and far from painless, even more so than the twins had endured. No pain, no gain, that was a saying which ultimately made sense.

A few more years passed and whereas the twins remained at the same strength they had always been at without increasing or decreasing in any way, the child, as always, proved herself to be a personified version of a miracle. Her powers excelled drastically over time, and at one point, she proved that she could take down the entire base if she wanted to, but due to her affection towards her father, she followed his orders without rebelling against him even once. The Baron was pleased with this outcome, more than he thought he would be, and as such granted Jeraslovik privileges, even to some things not even Dr. List had access to.

* * *

"I am pleased with her progress," said Strucker as he and doctor Jeraslovik roamed the halls of the base, remaining unaffected by the faint echoes and sounds coming from the distance. Some were human, some were otherwise.

His companion smiled slyly and nodded. "So am I," he said, growing increasingly arrogant over his achievements. Strucker noticed but said nothing as they went down the corridor and continued with their conversation like a pair of friends who had just watched the game together. The sensation was an odd one, but nonetheless, one that could easily be compared to the circumstances. "Have you planned anything for the twins?" Jeraslovik pronounced their designation like bitter cyanide caught in his throat.

Strucker raised an eyebrow to the side without turning his head to face his companion. "I don't necessarily understand your contempt against them," he said. "They've proven useful thus far, so I don't see why the hostility is needed."

"They're cheap."

"Meaning?"

"They're peasants compared to the Queen." he continued, hands held together as if he was praying to God. "Their usefulness will expire."

"So will your precious child," Strucker countered, noting the stiffened breathing coming from Jeraslovik at the mention of this.

"I will not allow it."

"What if you cannot interfere?"

"I can and I will," Jeraslovik said, a note of firmness unrivaled by none other than Strucker himself. "She's practically a goddess."

"She's fourteen if her powers are dependent on her age. She's not fully developed yet."

"Which is why we will continue until she does," said Jeraslovik, regaining his equanimity and keeping his pace up, albeit at an equal level of his associate, and made sure as to not lose grasp on his composure again. His face was weary and looked old for his age, the happier he became the less he could see (though there was no reason for him to announce that he was by any means blind). He had a different perspective than the others he knew possessed, more open-minded, more ambitious. It served to his cause as much as aspirin served as a painkiller to sick patients at a hospital.

It had already been fourteen years since the project of reaping the Scepter of its whole range of powers was initialized, and it had been fourteen equally long years since the birth of his one and only offspring. Wilhelm always understood he was meant for greatness, but whether it was through direct or indirect means remained to be seen. Thus far, he had achieved most on his own, but he owed some of it to the girl. Despite the fact that she grew closer and closer to adolescence as the years flew them by little by little, she had never had her menstrual cycle and thus confirmed that the experiments had, indeed, rendered her _infertile_. A shame, as it could have provided them with further research as to how a potential child of hers could gain equal, if not stronger, capabilities, but it was nonetheless of no concern to him. As long as he had her, alive and tolerable stable, it mattered not.

"Are there any thoughts on what we are supposed to once she reaches maturity?" Asked the Baron gravely, sharpening a look his way.

Wilhelm shook his head dismissively. "I'm her father, hence she listens to me. She's an obedient child so I wouldn't worry too much." Narcissism and pride over his own abilities crept up at his tone like a serpentine devil behind God's ear. Few people would pay it any mind, but Strucker knew better than most what it meant to keep a tight leash around his subordinates throats if their recklessness outgrew his patience and tolerance.

"Even the devil betrayed God in the end." Was all he replied with, allowing the silence to conquer the atmosphere once again.

* * *

 _Tap... Tap... Tap..._

It stopped.

 _Tap... Tap... Tap..._

It returned.

 _Tap... Tap... Tap... CLONK!_

She froze in her position, her knees were pushed up against her chest, the silence rendered her again. Her eyes glowered with an illuminating color as she eyed the toys sharply in front of her. They were levitating above the floor, keeping themselves at the same height as her eyes, just floating there. It wasn't much to keep her focus intact, but it entertained her as it simultaneously kept her fixation in check. One of the toys had crashed down to the floor, breaking into numerous pieces from such an insignificant height. She must've forced it down with much vicious pressure than she intended to.

It didn't surprise her, not really. Her father always said she was much stronger than the others were, and that she was in that room because there were people from the outside who wanted to take her away unless they kept her contained there. She trusted him, more than she would later understand that she ought to.

Her eyes fell on the broken pieces on the floor, and without conjuring much effort, all of them started to float again and, one by one, pieced themselves together until it looked exactly like how it had been before it broke.

The door leading into the room suddenly opened and all of the cubes fell down again in surprise, though they didn't break like the first one had. A man stepped inside, one she recognized all-too-well, and a smile formed itself on her face as she got up and approached him. "Father,"

He smiled back at her and closed the door behind him. "Good to see you, dear," he said soothingly, though with a somewhat ominous tone at the back of his throat. He was carrying a plate of good-looking food in his left hand, and the scent caused saliva to gather itself up in her mouth. Her usual meals consisted of bland foods which rarely had the privileges of significant taste, occasionally sweet or salt, but this looked like a haven of all sorts of distinguishable flavors. She stood up from the floor and walked over to him, a humble smile spread across her lips.

"Father," she greeted meekly, standing up from the floor as he slowly approached her.

He placed the tray down on the table next to him and noticed the scattered toys on her floor, the ones she had previously levitated. "Have you been exercising?" he asked her gently, but something in his words exposed their true intentions. It was a demand, one she knew better than to deny. He was her father, after all, and she was pretty much obligated to reply earnestly if she wanted to stay on his good side. She didn't want to make him angry, not at all, and a shiver went up to her spine at the thought of what he would do if she showed reluctance to oblige to his wishes.

She swallowed and answered slowly, "Yes."

He nodded with contentment and placed a firm hand on top of her head, slightly forcing her to face her bare feet, "That's good,"

She refrained from flinching from his touch. It was unnerving, but she knew better than to say so out loud. She didn't want to anger him. She loved him, and she didn't want to make him angry. She didn't want to. She _couldn't_. As soon as he took his hand off her, she took a humble step back and looked up at him with curious eyes before they landed on the food on the plate with hunger. "What's that?" she asked.

"You'll need your strength for our next test," her father said. "We want you to meet someone."

"Someone else?" she tilted her head to the side. "Who?"

"You'll see," he gestured to the food. "Eat up. We'll leave in an hour."

"... Yes."

* * *

Wilhelm did have his doubts to begin with, but upon watching her wolf down the food he had brought her like an animal starved of sustenance, he knew that there was nothing to fear when it came to the range of her capabilities. She would stand above them like a boot over ants, and he would stand witness to it like the proud God he was. She was the Eve of his evolution, and even though the twins had been created prior to her, they were nothing more than Cain and Abel in the face of their God, though he would have to prefer Ms. Maximoff above her brother. Speed wasn't worth much if it could be conquered by the mind.

As soon as his precious little doll had finished eating her meal, they exited the confined space and headed down the base towards a room which was solely dedicated to enhanced humans such as herself. He had proposed to the Baron about it, and true enough, he had seen the potential in creating a place where they could compete against each other, test their strengths and successfully manage to awaken the bloodlust they knew ever human possessed inside of them. What Hydra needed weren't pacifistic, benevolent fools who believed in the gospel of Mahatma Gandhi and Martin Luther King Jr.

They needed ruthless killing machines.

The room was more like an arena than anything, decorated with the Hydra insignia and with all the necessary tools and weapons, not that neither the twins nor his precious doll would require either part. The twins were already there by the time they arrived, as was Strucker himself. Wilhelm smirked to himself as he imagined what kind of state the twins would be in by the time they were finished there. Things would get interesting indeed.

"Let's begin."


	2. Chapter 2: In The Face Of Adversary

**Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers**

 **Warning: Avengers AU**

 **In this alternative universe, Wanda and Pietro stayed with Hydra for quite a few years after they managed to get their hands on Loki's scepter after the Battle of New York, but other than that, this arc will take place sometime before Age of Ultron. If there are any questions, feel free to ask and I will answer them.**

* * *

 _ **Chapter 2: In The Face Of Adversary**_

* * *

 _"_ _If they do it often, it isn't a mistake. It's just their behavior."  
_ _\- Steve Maraboli_

* * *

Her eyes fell on top of the two alien figures across the room, a man and a woman by the looks of it, and standing next to them stood 'Baron'. It was the only name she knew to address him by, but the two other figures remained strangers to her. However, it didn't require a lot of attention to detect that they, like herself, were _enhanced_. She had never seen them before, at least not the woman, whom she could see had the lights of the scepter practically oozing from her. The man, on the other hand, didn't look quite as severe. At first, she thought it was odd, as her father had always told her that _she_ was the strongest. Would that mean that these people would threaten to replace her? Would her father allow that? Was she expendable, even though she had yet to understand what that word meant?

"Dear," her father said soothingly from behind her, gesturing to the man and the woman across the room. "This is Wanda and Pietro. Like you, they as _special_." There was an unexpected sharp turn at the last word of the sentence he spoke, like it physically hurt him to pronounce them properly. So it was true, they were like herself? _Enhanced_. The woman, who had been previously sitting on the floor with her knees tucked into her chest, stood up with an unreadable expression on her face. The man too seemed like there was something he didn't quite understand regarding the situation. That made three of them.

"Who is this?" the woman, _Wanda_ , asked and cast a look at Baron of confusion. "Why is there a child here?"

"We were told that we were supposed to fight," said the silver-haired man, _Pietro_ , and crossed his arms over his chest as he furrowed his eyes towards her from across the room. "Nobody mentioned a kid."

She looked up at her father, expecting him to retort to something or say anything to conclude their inquiries, but rather than seeing his usually stoic self, his lips were shaped upward to the likes of a maniacal grin. There were few occasions where she had witnessed his mood drastically change in similar fashion, but never before had she felt so unnerved by it as she did at that exact moment. She had promised herself that she would never dwell into the mind of her father like she had on countless other beings as a part of their conducted experiments on her abilities. However, she was suddenly feeling tempted to figure out as to why he was displaying but obsessive tendencies and optimistic characteristics when faced with adversary.

"This is your opponent," the Baron answered without moving an inch from his spot. It hardly seemed like he was breathing at all. Both Pietro and Wanda looked up at him with wide eyes filled with bewilderment and disbelief. "This is Wilhelm Jeraslovik's creation, and the one you are going to stand up against."

"You cannot be serious," opposed Wanda and shook her head defiantly, casting a sympathetic look across the room to the girl whom she unwillingly was forced to label as her opposer. "I refuse to harm an innocent."

 _Innocent? What did it mean to be innocent?_ She tilted her head to the side with lack of understanding towards the woman's pitiful appearance. Why was she looking at her in such a strange way?

The Baron placed a firm hand on her shoulder, indicating that he was less than patient about her reluctance to oblige to his orders. Pietro took a step forward to warn him about touching his sister, but even though he knew he could easily take the Baron down if he wanted to, the look in the Baron's eyes made his movement falter and Pietro stood his ground but did not try to make himself appear bigger than he was. He didn't want to risk getting on Strucker's bad side, especially since he was technically the one who had granted him and his sister the chance to take revenge on the damned Avengers in the first place fourteen years ago. It felt odd that it had been so long since they arrived, but it still seemed as if they had just arrived, like the pair of naive youths that they once were.

"Do not let looks deceive you," Strucker said and let go of Wanda's shoulder. "This child is much stronger than you would expect."

"She's enhanced like us?" Wanda asked, a mixture of curiosity and horror written over her face. She was painfully able to recall what kind of pain she and Pietro had been forced to endure before they were successfully able to reap of the benefits of the scepter and gain their strength, but the thought of someone so young being exposed to those otherworldly forces made her sick to the stomach. She looked back at the girl again and tried to detect anything out of the ordinary with her, anything from visible trauma to physical deformity, but surprisingly, she passed as any other girl she had seen. The only exceptions were the vague signs of malnourishment and the gaunt cheekbones on her face. Who was she?

Strucker nodded, verifying the question. "Dr. Jeraslovik has personally requested that we set the two of you up against his precious little doll,"

Both of the siblings halted at the mention of this. _"What?"_

Strucker didn't seem any enthusiastic about the concept himself, but nonetheless agreed to it to test to see which of their specimen were the most worth it when it came to the exploitation of resources. The weapons they had been able to produce proved themselves to be worth the effort, but when the idea of human weapons came into light, they had primarily focused on the experiments than the weapons themselves. Many, including Jeraslovik himself, had expressed the belief that humanity's future weapons should be dependant on humans alone, not only petty weapons that could easily be destroyed with hammers. As such, the number of shotguns and bombs weren't as extended as they had initially hoped for. Not to mention that Jeraslovik insisted that they spent most of their efforts in enhancing his specimen more than the others.

Now was time to figure out whether it had all been worth it or just a waste of resources.

"You will fight your opponent to the best of your abilities, and don't show a single ounce of mercy," said Jeraslovik from across the room without waiting for the Baron to finish his own explanation. He grinned with an ominous fashion to it and folded his hands together as he prepared to continue with the instructions. "You will fight each other until you are emptied of energy, unconscious, or dead. Nothing more and nothing less." He placed a hand on the shoulder of the girl in front of him, but she didn't move at all. Her eyes were firmly glued to Wanda and Pietro with interest and curiosity, like a child watching an animal in the Zoo for the first time, though she did not know what a Zoo was, nor what an animal was.

"This is madness," Wanda shook her head again.

Jeraslovik tilted his head to the side and feigned disappointment. "This is science, my dear. Unless you wish to remain a part of this anymore, I suggest you leave." It wasn't a demand or a request, they were all able to see through his effortless facade. This was a challenge. None of them had admitted it aloud, but there was a silent bet between Strucker and Jeraslovik as to which of their specimen was the strongest. This would become the final match to see who would win, and if the twins were too morally guided, then he had already won. He looked down at his daughter in front of him, the puppet he had raised to become as obedient as a dog, and he knew that she would not let her own emotions get ahead of his wishes. He had trained her far too well for that.

The Baron looked at his rather arrogant subordinate. "I think you're overestimating your abilities, doctor," he said and took a step forward, the twins stood behind him and watched warily as the scene unfolded.

Jeraslovik stood his ground and didn't ease the grin any less. "We both know I'm not flattering myself when I say that this will put an end to our childish quarrel once and for all, don't you think, _Wolfgang_?"

To hear someone use his first name like an insult hit the Baron where it shouldn't have. The last person who used his full name was his wife, whom he hadn't seen in six months give or take. This man, this doctor, who was true to his genius but no less of an arrogant child with some cards on his hands, had openly mocked him by speaking his name like they had known each other for far longer than they really had. Fourteen years wasn't much when they barely spoke of anything but their work. Strucker took a deep breath and straightened his back again before speaking up, this time to the twins behind him. "You will both participate in this test," he ordered them without as much as turning around. "You will not hesitate to exploit your abilities to the fullest. Do anything less and there will be consequences. Have I made myself clear?"

"But, sir, we can't-"

"Have I made myself clear, Miss Maximoff?" He repeated slowly, efficiently shutting her off before she could come with one of her morality speeches. Quite frankly, out of her and her brother, she was the more rational and less talkative one, but unfortunately, she was the most emotional one of the pair. Had it not been for that sense of tenderness, she would've been less of a nuisance to deal with. It somewhat surprised Strucker as to how only her powers were the traits which Jeraslovik found to be bothersome.

Whereas Strucker stepped back and headed out of the room to a safety stance where he was sure to witness the battle without exposing himself to the potential dangers that would occur, which they most certainly would, Jeraslovik stayed a bit behind and bent down to whisper something into her ear. "Kill them for me." His words were sly and serpentine, like the snake in the Garden of Eden whispering to Eve. He saw her slightly come to a halt at this request, but she didn't turn around to look at him in order to get the confirmation she needed. She _knew_ that he wouldn't need to repeat himself for her to understand.

"Kill?"

"Yes," he whispered and placed a hand on her shoulder, a firm grip. "Make sure that they don't leave unscathed."

"Are they... making problems for you?" she asked uncertainly, still not letting her eyes leave the twins as they spoke something to each other, holding each other's hands with a sense of comfort she was unable to empathize on. What kind of comfort was that?

Jeraslovik knew he would have to bend his genuine motives behind his hostility against the twins, only like that would he be able to ensure that she wouldn't fail him. "They are trying to make my work harder," he explained. "I'm having it bad because of them."

At this, she felt her anger boil, so did he, and he smiled at this. He was her father, her only reason to exist, and if there was anything which was bothering him, bothering her existence, then he knew that she wouldn't hesitate to do whatever meant necessary to make sure that they both lived. Truth be told, he had never made her kill anyone directly. He thought she wasn't ready for that just yet. She was a child, and with that came the inevitable empathy which more than often became an obstacle to human evolution. He would have to make sure that she was ripped off that sooner or later, otherwise things would become problematic. Still, she was perfectly shaped, both with her abilities and physically, so she had the cards on her side. He didn't doubt her for a moment, and was positive that she would stand with the ace in the end.

" _Kill_?" she asked again for his approval, walking forward with sharp eyes aimed at the twins.

He smiled and retreated to a safe distance next to the Baron, "Yes."

Though the twins showed reluctance in attacking a child as young as she, they were both prepared to fend for themselves if necessary. Pietro's main concern was the well-being of his sister, as he understood that due to her powers, she underwent the most mental pain and was more easily bent to a painful point if whoever's mind she saw into proved to be either filled with too much for her to handle or too little to comprehend. The girl continued to approach them with an unreadable yet sinister look in her eyes, like two holes into a hollow mannequin. Was this truly one of the doctor's own specimen? He had a hard time believing that.

He readied his stance and prepared to run in case their opponent would rely on a confrontational attack, direct without strategic planning. However, when he looked to the side to his sister, he was mildly shocked to see her standing there wide-eyed, as if she had just witnessed something grotesque when she looked at the girl. "What is it?" His first instinct was to walk over to her and ensure her safety before making any movements towards his opposer, but Wanda didn't look back at him. She was frozen in her steps like a statue on a cold morning in December. He gritted his teeth and called her name, a bit more forceful than ever. "Wanda, what's the matter?"

Her bottom lip was quivering. "I cannot... I cannot look into her head..."

Pietro paused and had to recall the words twice for them to make any sense. Ever since they first gained their abilities, there was never a person whom Wanda was unable to enter the mind of. The only exception of this was Dr. List and Strucker himself, but this was out of respect for them than out of any inability. "What do you mean?" he asked her, quickly looking over at the girl who was little by little closing the distance between them.

"She's somehow blocked me out."

That was all she managed to say before the girl suddenly charged towards them, eyes glowing in a darker shade of a cyan-like color. Pietro was quick (as expected) and hurried over towards his opponent and pushed into the edge of the shoulder, efficiently pulling her away from their direct position. The girl let out a faint groan as she fell to the floor, but didn't let herself stay down for more than a couple of seconds. Pietro had been gentle enough as to not shatter her bones at the impact of his unequalized speed, but that didn't mean he would let her away easily.

Then, without his acknowledgment, the girl flicked with her hand once, and he was already thoroughly paralyzed. Pietro felt all of his nerves numb to the point where he couldn't feel them at all, like being held beneath ice water for far too long. However, accompanying that numbness was the strange sensation of some sort of energy flowing through him, invisible wires that kept him from moving at all. He tried his best to escape the hold he was being captured in, but no matter how many times he twisted and trashed with his inhuman speed, he was unable to free himself. Even breathing became a struggle as the weight on his chest made it seem like it was trying to internally suffocate him.

This girl was just like his sister, and never before had he ever thought he would have to suffer beneath powers like hers. He was gravely mistaken. He tried to force his mouth open to say something, trying to think of a way to escape the hold he was in. His mind, which was usually filled with so much, had abruptly come to a stop and he found himself emptied of thoughts and words alike. Not only was he paralyzed physically, but the girl who was standing there with blue lines circling from her arms to his body was numbing his thoughts as well. She hardly moved at all, but it was visible through her hollow eyes that she was not letting go anytime soon.

Suddenly, his sister raised her hands and held them up towards the girl, and the familiar crimson lights shot out from her own hands and hit the girl with the intentions of knocking her off the ground and forcing her to let go of Pietro. However, to both of their surprises, the girl took but one step to the side at the impact of this. The crimson lines were surrounding every arm and leg up to her neck, and Pietro was capable of seeing the visible shock in his sister's eyes. The girl's eyes were covered by the shades of her hair at first, but slowly, she turned her focus away from Pietro and, much to his dismay, cast her eyes in Wanda's direction instead. Her eyes were glowing dangerously her way, her irises hardly looked humanly anymore.

The hold around Pietro eased up and he dropped down to the ground, coughing like he had been physically strangled by someone, which he actually had. He held his chest and took slow and steady breaths in an effort to regain his composure, but as soon as he looked up, he became the witness to how the girl instantaneously ran straight towards Wanda with the equally threatening look in her eyes. The red cords surrounding her had no apparent effect on her body as she ran as if nothing was blocking her path. In less than seconds, she reached up to Wanda, who was by then already attempting to get away, and threw her hand to the side. The cyan lines burst out of her palm and seemingly trapped the woman in her place.

However, before the girl could throw her final attack, Wanda gathered all of the energy she could muster into one and slammed her arms open, causing a wave to erupt from her body and throw both Pietro and the girl into the wall, though she was able to catch herself on the ground before she hit the wall whereas Pietro wasn't so fortunate. The silver-haired man hit the wall behind him with such force that it threatened to render him unconscious, and he slid down to the floor less ceremoniously than he would have preferred it.

The girl shook her head a couple of times before she got up to her feet again, thrice as hellbent on making sure that her opponents would not make it past the day. Without warning, she threw her left arm towards Wanda, who had just started recovering from the full-out exploitation of her powers and made her near-emptied of energy, and her eyes glowed as an illuminating forcefield surrounded the little space around her opponent. Wanda's eyes grew wide as the managed to regain her stance, and in a last attempt to protect herself as the force field began to deliberately shrink, she held both her arms up as high as she could and conjured a field of her own to keep her from getting crushed. It was obvious that she was struggling inside there, but that wasn't what terrified her the most. As she cast a look through the force field and towards the girl, she spotted no childish attributes of any kind on her features. Her eyes were dark and hollow, void of any life or sense of control.

Those were the eyes of a killer.

The illuminating colors of cyan and crimson produced a spectacular purple shade, and as the fight continued, Jeraslovik and Strucker were admiring the scenery from the safe distance of which they were placed in. Whereas Strucker was silent and did not reveal anything about how he was feeling, as stoic and unexpressive as he usually was, Jeraslovik took pleasure in knowing that his precious Eve was conquering the victory effortlessly. His grin wasn't subtle, nor were his occasional chuckles and snickers with his mouth closed.

Strucker cast him a glance to the side and said nonchalantly before turning back to witness the battle in action. "It seems I underestimated your doll for a moment," he admitted.

"You are forgiven," said Jeraslovik and shrugged. "Though I hope that this proves that she's been worth all the effort we've put into creating her."

"It would seem like that," agreed the Baron with a somewhat nonchalant tone, as if he wasn't really impressed. "Though I will still want to keep a leash on the twins."

As soon as he said that, Pietro got up from his defeated position and prepared to run towards his sister's aid, but just as he was about to, the girl raised her other hand without looking away from Wanda and immobilized him entirely, though this time there was a much harsher strain on his hold than before, and no air was allowed into his lungs. He desperately wanted to head up to his sister and save her before she got crushed into debris. The thought of that visibly sickened him, but he was unable to do anything at all.

With a flick of her wrist, the girl sent him straight into the same wall, then into another one, then into yet another one. She continued with it until blood began streaming like rivers from his face to the point where he looked he had had red paint thrown at him. She hardly looked at him during this process as she painfully broke several bones in his body and bloodied all of the walls, as her focus was ninety percent on Wanda and her attempt at obliterating her. The woman was visibly at her mercy, and not even her abilities could save her from her inevitable death.

All she could think about was how proud she would make her father by ridding him of the people that were bothering him. She would make her father happy.

Wanda began to crouch down as the force field got too small for her to stand properly up in, and she was forced down in an almost submissive position, tears were streaming down from her eyes, but not because she was about to get crushed. Her eyes were fixated on the sight of her brother thrown around in the room like a lifeless ragdoll, face covered with blood and one of his arms were bent in the wrong direction. Why was she more afraid of the life of someone else than her own life? It didn't make sense to her. Why wasn't she scared about getting killed herself? She was moments away from facing her own death, about to get crushed into dust, but she wasn't crying for herself. Would her last seconds of life be spent with worrying about someone else?

 _How... Strange._

Pietro suddenly stopped midair, levitating until he was dropped down on the ground like a slap of meat. He was unconscious, badly injured, but not dead. The girl could hear his heartbeats beneath his chest, and albeit slow, they were present. The force field around Wanda dissolved itself and she fell back in exhaustion, panting and gasping for air. Every muscle in her body ached, but that couldn't compare to the pain of watching her brother's body in the middle of the room looking like someone had put him through a meat grinder. She prepared to crawl over towards him, defying everything in her which told her to let herself rest. She couldn't risk losing him. He was all she had left in the world.

But before she could move away, the girl stood in her way, looming over her like a god over peasants. But, surprisingly, Wanda spotted nothing of the earlier hostilities in the girl's once hollow eyes. All traits of the cold-blooded killer were gone, and now stood the same girl she had initially seen standing next to doctor Jeraslovik only minutes earlier. Still wary and still concerned about the well-being of her brother, Wanda looked over to Pietro and feared the worst had happened to him.

"His heart beats," the girl, as if having read her mind, answered her. Wanda felt relief rush through her, but when she looked up at her, a mixture of shock and inquisitiveness was written over her face, and opened her mouth to say something, the girl beat her to it. "Why were you crying?"

The question caught her off-guard, and with good reasons too. Wanda had half expected her to ask a question like 'any last words?' or something, but that turned out not to be the case. "Wha- ... What?" At first, Wanda believed she had heard wrong. However, upon looking up at her again, she detected no frivolity or any indication that she had meant to mock her. This girl was serious.

"You are crying," she repeated. "Why?"

"Dear," the voice caught them both off-guard. The girl looked up to see her father standing there, his arms crossed patiently over his chest. "Remember what I told you." It was obvious that Strucker was confused at this point, but none of it mattered to her. This caused her to instantly recall the plan her father had requested of her to fulfill. Looking down at the woman on the floor and then at the man not far away from them, barely clinging onto life anymore, she knew that if she wanted to please her father and rid him of those who plagued him, she would have to do this. There was no other alternative, otherwise, she would cease to be useful. Her own life, after all, was dedicated to her father and no one but. She was his dog, and if he told her to bite, then she would.

Her eyes began to glow again as she walked over to the side of Wanda and raised her hand, getting ready to snap her neck then and there. She had never killed anyone before, not humans at least, but if that was what was required to ease her father's worries, then she would have to get accustomed to it. After all, they were just humans. If one or two of them disappeared, it didn't mean the end of the world. That was something her father used to tell her, that life was expendable unless it was beneficial for future generations. She was one of the beneficial ones, which meant that she wasn't replaceable as long as he was there with her. These people, however, if her father wanted them dead, they were expendable.

She held her hand up and cyan lines began to surround the woman's throat, putting on light pressure before steadily increasing it. When it came to destroying objects with her powers, she was no stranger on the matter. On multiple occasions, her father and Baron had provided her with several items to crush into debris and destroy entirely. It never required a lot of strength to do so, but she had never before tried that on a living being. Was it truly that easy to destroy things? For anyone? For her? She found herself pondering on that question for a couple of seconds and unconsciously released some of the pressure on the woman's throat, though the cyan lines were still present. Why did she hesitate?

The woman looked up at her, something told her she was beyond shocked, yet another part told her she was afraid. Afraid of death? It seemed plausible, but if she expected to die then and there at her hands, then the last thing she would see wouldn't be the cause of her death. Her eyes faltered around until they landed on Pietro, who was still lying unconscious in the middle of the room. He hadn't moved at all, nor did the woman. If she was afraid of being killed, then why did she want to see someone else rather than the one who was supposed to kill her?

Wanda wanted to fight against the grip, break free and save her brother, but she stopped in the midst of the thinking. If they were both to die there, she wanted to look at him one last time. One final time. His silver hair that was once in a darker shade, the blue eyes she remembered being part of her first memory as a child. He was the only thing she had left in her life, for however long it lasted, but if it turned out to be the last seconds of life for her, for him, then she wanted it to be a good memory. Everything she had with Pietro was a good memory. Still, there was one last thing she wanted to say before the darkness would claim her for good. One last act of kindness, something she herself hadn't been fortunate enough to experience as of lately.

"You don't have to do it, you know?" she whispered, believing that her words were too low to be heard, but as she didn't feel any pain or see any darkness, she became confused. Once again, she dared to look up at the person who would claim her life, and saw no murderer or killer in the eyes. What she saw, _who_ she saw, was nothing but the same girl who once stood across the room. The same girl who showed initial reluctance in engaging in the fight. On the contrary Wanda's own eyes, that were brown unless her powers were used, in which case they became red, the girl's eyes were of a blue kind almost like her brother, but darker in shade. It didn't really hit her until then that she was just a child, so young. She pitied her for the kind of life she would live if killing became a daily routine for her.

The girl, who had her hand raised and prepared to make the brink of Wanda's neck twist 180 degrees around by the flick of her fingers, seemed to hesitate for a moment. "I don't?" Her question seemed foolish and a bit naive, but Wanda understood that there was a reason behind it. She was still unable to look into her mind, but it didn't require a lot of observant skills to know what kind of life she had led. The man, Dr. Jeraslovik, was responsible for this. She had never spoken to him or known much about him except for a few coincidental encounters, but by the looks of it, he was ruthless in the exploitation of lives. Wanda had heard from Strucker how the doctor tended to brag about his own creation like Frankenstein, but never before did she quite understand what it involved. Now that she did, and a part of her wished she didn't. The sad part was that whereas she and Pietro volunteered to the experiments, it didn't look like the girl had a choice in the matter at all. Cruelty was at its finest.

A weak smile spread itself across her lips and she shook her head. "No, you don't," she answered quietly, making sure that the doctor couldn't hear as she spoke. "Your life is your own, no matter what." It felt odd to have such sentimental conversations with the very person who was about to end her life, but Wanda felt like the girl deserved to know at least as much. After all, she doubted anyone else would tell her sooner or later. She couldn't rely on the doctor to do it, especially not him. Therefore she took on the responsibility herself to tell her the one valuable lesson she had been taught through sheer pain and agony. Her life was her life, nobody else's.

The glower in the girl's eyes seemed to falter, and she lowered her arm and Wanda felt the pressure on her throat release its grip. She took a deep breath before she got up on her knees and began to hurriedly crawl over to her brother's body. His face was covered with the dried blood of his earlier injuries and she felt sick upon seeing the angle of his left arm. Without thinking twice, she searched for his pulse beneath his wrist and held her ear close to his mouth. True to the girl's earlier statement, she felt the former and heard the latter. He was alive, and it felt like the entire world's weight had been dropped off her shoulder. He hadn't left her alone.

"My life," the girl's voice caused Wanda to turn back and look at her, though her hand was firmly pressed against Pietro's chest. She expected her to kill them both for some reason, primarily out of paranoia, but the killer's look was still absent from her eyes. The girl pointed at her own chest. "Is mine?"

Wanda didn't know what to feel. Anger, pity, sympathy? While she still had her brother by her side, this girl was all alone surrounded by lies. Quite honestly, she had never liked Hydra or their motives. The only reason she and her brother joined them was because they wanted to protect their country and destroy the Avengers. She didn't want anyone to get hurt, and she had always had a choice whether or not to join in the first place. This girl was but a sign of what kind of notorious atrocities they were willing to commit to ensure that their goals were reached, and what they would exploit to make that happen. An ounce of her regretted participating in the first place, and that regret increased that day to a maximum point.

All she could do was nod to the girl, confirm that regardless of what happened, it was her life in the end. "Yes, it is."

The girl opened her mouth to say something, but instead, she let out a small groan. She clutched the side of her abdomen and took a step back like something had physically hurt her. Not knowing what had happened, Wanda opened her mouth to ask what was wrong, but that was until her eyes spotted the small tranquilizing needle on the side of her stomach. What little left remained of color on her face was soon drained and she collapsed on the ground, her eyes shutting and her breathing steadied. It looked like she was sleeping peacefully, and Wanda prayed that she would dream about something nice for once. It wasn't much of a privilege to be granted in such a place.

"Such a pity," said a voice. "And here I thought she was better than the likes of you."

Dr. Jeraslovik, along with a group of heavily-armed soldiers with the Hydra insignia on their armors, marched into the room with a stretcher and collected the girl like some kind of claimed trophy of sorts. Wanda wanted to interfere and tell them to back away, but she didn't want to risk not receiving the medical attention her brother was in desperate need of. Instead, she settled on a crimson glare as the soldiers exited the room and the doctor lingered only for a few more moments to admire the blood on the walls with pride, _her brother's blood_ , before he too was about to leave.

Before she could help herself, Wanda spat out the words. "You're a _monster_."

The doctor stopped in his tracks for a couple of seconds without turning around, and when he did, he grinned her way. "It's science, my dear. She'll do better than you and your brother will." And just like that, he left, and Wanda could do anything but to curse herself for the cowardice she expressed.

* * *

"You didn't kill her when you had the chance," her father was disappointed beyond explanation, but it was a surprise as to how he was capable of keeping his voice so even and composed. He was equanimity personified, but he was perhaps one of the most ruthless people Hydra had ever encountered since Johann Schmidt himself. His _precious_ daughter, as punishment for having disobeyed his orders, had been strapped down on a table with her entire body exposed, revealing her malnourished body and pale complexion. How pretty she truly was, had only the scars from the earlier procedures faded away. Her face showed no emotion at all, and for some unfathomable reason, she didn't look at him when he spoke. Only at the ceiling.

He responded properly to this lack of acknowledgment, and in less than a second, there was a red mark on her cheek and her face was forced to the side. She still didn't as much as cast him a glance. Since when did she begin to rebel against him? He somehow suspected that the damned witch was responsible for this change of behavior, but no matter what, he would deal with it his own way. He would force that idiotic humanity out of her if he so had to rip out all of her intestines piece by piece and stuff in something else.

On the table next to them were a range of scalpels and syringes systematically positioned, each of them containing different kinds of liquids. He shooked his head in disappointment and sighed. "I didn't want to do this, dear," he said and placed a finger under her chin, forcing her to look at him. Her eyes were hollow and empty, like a doll. "But you've given me no choice." He placed a soft kiss on top of her forehead and pulled forth one of the scalpels.

That was the last time she ever screamed.


	3. Chapter 3: Beasts In Our Wake

**Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers**

 **Warning: Avengers AU**

* * *

 _ **Chapter 3: Beasts In Our Wake**_

* * *

 _"Monsters are real, ghosts are real live inside us, and sometimes they win."  
\- Stephen King_

* * *

Years had passed since that fateful encounter, the one which made Jeraslovik's entrusted porcelain doll crack for the first time since her creation. He made sure to glue it together though, making sure that whatever that wretched witch put into her head would be taken out of her one way or the other. He knew he had successfully made it when she didn't respond to the pain his experiments caused her anymore. In the beginning, she would make vain attempts at earning his mercy through the cries, wanting to earn herself the chance of redemption for her past mistakes. The day when she stopped screaming when he pierced through her skin with one of the needles on the table was the day he acknowledged his victory. He had made it, and there was nothing left of that wasteful empathy she once inevitably possessed.

Due to the exposure to the Scepter at an early age, her body never developed properly like it should have. Only her height increased along with few parts of her body, but not to the point where it was considerably visible. Her breasts, albeit not entirely flat, weren't as plump as they were supposed to be for her age, and due to her low body fat percentage since Jeraslovik didn't want her to consume more than what was necessary for her to body to function, she was not near the ideal weight for her height and age that she should have been at. It didn't come as a surprise when the scientists that were regularly washing her to initially assume that she was still a child, even though she had just barely grazed the age of sixteen by the coming winter.

It had taken him almost two years to make it through her, but those years were worth it as long as it meant that he succeeded. From then on, they continued like they usually did. Each procedure she underwent, each experiment, each exposure to the Scepter made her stronger than she previously was. If she was just as strong years ago, years before Wanda Maximoff pulled that empathic bullshit into her head, then that meant his Eve was now officially one of Hydra's greatest achievements to this date. An unemotional, obedient dog. One who did what it was told to without remorse, without question, without humanity. A hollow husk, but an effective one nonetheless. The experiments no longer affected her as much as they used to, and whenever scars of injuries would be left on her body, they would heal during a quick amount of time without much excess wastefulness. Whether it was open wounds or broken limbs, they never stayed for long. They would usually heal themselves due to the scepter's effect on her anatomy. Her regenerating factors weren't quick like lightning, but never slow to the point where any substance was required for her to heal properly. She was perfect like that.

To officially test this lack of empathy, Strucker placed her alone in a cell with one of their most heavily-armed and heavily-trained soldiers Hydra had to offer, one of the most dangerous ones in the rank. Each of their objectives had been made clear: kill their opponent. Whereas the soldier seemed to take great satisfaction with doing this, grinning sadistically at the sight of the adolescent girl and the thought of her covered thoroughly in blood, his opponent revealed nothing. As expected, she didn't react anymore to the sensation of death, nor about being the executioner herself.

Needless to say, the battle was primarily one-sided. The soldier wasted all of his ammo trying to shoot her, but none of the hundred and hundred bullets as much as grazed her. She dodged them all without moving at all, and when he was finally emptied of the bullets, he resorted to physical attacks with a knife. She dodged them all equally well, swiftly like she weighed nothing, which wasn't far from the truth. They had trained not only her abilities but also her body, so that if times were desperate, it wouldn't be a struggle to fight back. Not that she would need to depend much on the rest of herself but her mind anyway.

It would be easy enough to snap his neck and get it over with, but Jeraslovik had taught her to become ruthless over the years. Ending the soldier's life would be quick and painless, and that didn't ensure him that she was emptied of that humanity. So instead, she proceeded to use his own body against himself. With the flick of her fingers, she was able to pierce through his mind and exploit it to the best of her abilities, making him incapable of fighting against her. Then she forced him to drop all of his weapons to the ground and wrap his hands around his throat, putting on pressure slowly... Slowly. He was unable to resist this attack, as he was now _her_ personal puppet.

Without as much as blinking, her eyes glowered as she forced him to completely shut his inhalation off, suffocating him to where his nails dug into the flesh surrounding his neck, causing blood to stream down and taint his clothes. He began to cough and gag, but he still didn't let go. Jeraslovik smiled behind the glass of his protective confinement as both he and Strucker watched the scene unfold. He was prideful beyond what words could describe over his little doll. She had finally become the weapon he intended for her to become.

Finally, the soldier's body began to tremble and his eyes started reddening until he finally fell limp to the ground. Dead.

His killer stood there. Alive. She was breathing, she was blinking, the glow in her eyes faded into her natural color and she didn't as much as flinch at the sight in front of her. This was her first kill, and it was the one Jeraslovik wanted to last the longest. He wanted to see whether or not there remained a hint of empathy left. Judging by her expressionless features and lack of significant change in her behavior, he knew that wasn't the case.

Her eyes turned to the two people behind the glass, not saying anything but expecting some kind of sign of approval.

Her father nodded with a satisfactory grin plastered on his face. Even the Baron could admit he was impressed with the progress they had made over the recent years. He still held firmly onto the twins, against the young doctor's protest, as he believed that they still held their value despite having access to more freedom than Jeraslovik's creation, but that didn't mean he would focus so much on them like he used to in the past. Hydra held a new kind of strength than they did only years before, and this was one that would ensure their future dominance. The savior of humankind was a human herself, a perfected one with all the right attributes. He regretted being skeptical of the doctor when they first took him in as List's protègè. He wasn't an expendable subordinate after all.

The door into the room opened and a group of scientists carried the corpse of her opponent away on a stretcher. She was escorted out of there and brought into the washing cell, where she was undressed down to her bare skin and soaked with cold water. She hardly moved as the ice-cold water connected with her skin, though it was evident that goosebumps erupted on her skin. She stood against the wall as the scientists began to thoroughly wash her body from up and down. Her hair wasn't much trouble to get clean since it hardly grazed her neck. Jeraslovik himself had cut it short because he feared that if he allowed it to grow long, she would start to pull it out as a sort of coping mechanism against the pain she endured on a daily basis but never expressed aloud.

Her eyes were plastered on the floor as they continued to wash her, scrubbing her skin as if she was the host of some contagious plague. It continued like that until they eventually left the room and her father entered, a white towel and some clothes in his hands. Only then did she look up to meet his gaze, but without any noticeable change in her features. His eyes said it all as they loomed over her. He was so proud of her that he could barely contain herself. If only he could express that affection, but looking at her body, at all the scars and the lack of strength she possessed in her body, he knew he could no longer do it like he used to in the past. She hadn't even cried even back then when he showed her how much he truly _loved her_.

He threw the towel over her shoulders and wrapped it firmly around her. "You did well, dear," he said approvingly and stroked the top of her head gently, expecting her to flinch at the gesture. She didn't, and that confirmed his success only further. He couldn't be more pleased with her, with himself, than he was at that moment. She was the strongest creature in the building and could easily kill him without hesitation if she wished to, but there she was, alone, exposed, and vulnerable, and he could easily take advantage of her and she still wouldn't move an inch. That was how well he had trained her. He forced himself to suppress a narcissistic grin and pulled his hand away from her. "As a reward, I've brought a surprise to your cell."

After he helped her dry and get dressed in some wearable clothes, which were really just some sheets that had been made into one big gown that stretched over her entire frame like a blanket with sleeves, she still didn't respond say anything, but her gaze didn't falter. How truly marvelous colors her eyes had, just like her mother did. Had it not been for the scars covering her body and the visible bones peeking out from beneath her skin, she would've undoubtedly appeared desirable in the eyes of others. He wouldn't let that happen, though. She was _his_ and no one else's. Her hair was dark like a blackbird's color, though with the softest peek of bluish hint added to it. He marveled the sight of her like mankind marveled the sight of the moon for the first time. She was truly _beautiful_.

"Now, let's get going, then," he said and took her by the shoulder, pulling her alongside him as they exited the shower rooms and walked through the corridors. Several scientists and soldiers passed them on the way and few of them threw odd glances at the girl. However, Jeraslovik cast them all possessive and intimidating looks and they snapped back from them like prey among a predator.

When they finally arrived at the isolated space which was her cell, which hadn't changed since two years ago, Jeraslovik placed his thumb on the scanner and was granted access.

The first thing the both of them spotted was the lack of furniture in the room, but only she looked mildly confused, not that she let her features allow much view of that emotion. Jeraslovik noticed her shock, as subtle as it was, and couldn't help but to grin with satisfaction over how her reaction was almost anticipated. "We've decided that it's preferable now that you exceed in your physical skills as well," he said. "Though you are already perfect, my dear, it only seems fit that the rest of you is perfected as well."

The door behind them suddenly opened again, and in stepped an unfamiliar man, sophisticatedly dressed in a nice suit and tie and with an authority-lingering presence accompanying him as he approached them. Though she had seen many people like him before, the only odd thing was that he wasn't alone. Her eyes grew slightly upon acknowledging the rather intimidating figure walking behind him, and it didn't require a lot of observational skills to assume that he wasn't entirely human. His metal arm, adorned with the famous red star she had seen on multiple occasions, made up for those suspicions with ease. Judging by how half of his face was concealed beneath the darkness of a mask, there rested a doubt within her which said that this would not be the usual kind of physical exercise she would receive.

His eyes were as dark as his hair, though there was a hint of something she recognized too well in them; _emptiness_.

Whereas the suited man's feet were light and near inaudible to hear as he strolled into the cell, the soldier's steps were echoing through the room like hammers bouncing on and off the solid ground. She said nothing and didn't move until the suited man went over to her father's side and shook his hand like greeting an old friend for the first time in years. Though there was a placid smile on the man's lips, almost equivalent to that her father would give her if she exceeded his expectations, she doubted there laid anything other than plans and ambitions beneath his exterior. He was too much like her father, but she would do her best to please him if that was her objective.

"It's been far too long, Alexander," said her father and pulled away from their handshaking.

"Likewise, Wilhelm," said the man and nodded in return. "Though I must admit that things have changed since the last time we spoke." His eyes suddenly landed on her, and there was a slight flicker in his eyes like he was impressed. "And this must be your... Shall I say _child_?" He scanned her from up to down, noticing every inch of her from what wasn't concealed behind her clothing. Noticing how fatigued and gaunt she appeared to be, he almost couldn't perceive how this was Jeraslovik's great creation. Despite the look he was giving her, she said nothing. The silence was a preferred qualification among the weapons of Hydra, and she seemed to qualify just fine on that matter.

" _Child_ isn't the word I would prefer to use," said Jeraslovik and shook his head. "She could rip you apart if she wanted to with the flick of a finger."

Alexander inclined his head intrigued. "Yes, I believe you mentioned in your call."

Neither the girl nor the soldier said anything as both of their respective masters had seized control over their tongues years ago. However, whilst Jeraslovik and Alexander were conversating with one another, the girl eyed the soldier with an empty look of her own. Like always, she kept her facial expressions at bay, yet she couldn't help but feel somewhat fascinated and alarmed. If this was supposed to be her new opponent, as threatening as he appeared to be, it wouldn't take much to kill him. He was normal, albeit physically enhanced, but that didn't make him any less of a threat. Judging by his looks, it would seem like his appearance wasn't the most threatening about him.

He noticed her gaze at him and returned with an equally emotionless look of his own, or perhaps he was shaping his face in a certain way, but the mask was keeping it from coming to view. Like her own, his eyes were deep and revealed nothing but what the suited man had allowed them to. It felt odd, but there was a sense of recognition peeking through as she looked at him. Neither of them moved or said anything to acknowledge each other, but the eye-contact made up for that alone. He didn't look very unlike the soldier she had just murdered, but the metal arm stuck out like a sore thumb.

"Dear," her father's voice caused her attention to snap back to him. He looked at her and placed a hand on her head. "This is Alexander Pierce, an old friend of mine."

Friend?

She said nothing, nor to did she turn her attention to the stranger.

The suited man took notice of her silence, and albeit it was preferred, he would rather confirm whether or not she was mentally stable. She would need to if they were to proceed with their next test. "Is she mute?" he asked and shifted his eyes from her to Jeraslovik.

Her father looked at her again. "Dear, could you say hello to this man?"

She still didn't say anything, and at this sign of disobedience, her father didn't take kindly to it. The next thing she knew, her face was momentarily forced to look aside and there was the sensation of a sting on her left cheek, the same one that suffered years ago. There was a large and red mark covering the side of her face. With eventual submission, she stood upright and looked at the suited man and forced a nod. She had angered her father and she felt apologetic for it, so if this was the one way to make up for it, then she would have to. " _Hello_ ," Her voice was hoarse and almost inaudible as if she had lost the habit of using it for long.

"Good girl," Her father smiled. "See? That wasn't too hard now, was it?" He gestured to the metal-armed soldier behind the suited man. "This is... What shall I call him, Alexander?" he inquired curiously and tilted his head. "'The Winter Soldier' seems a bit excessive, don't you think?"

"You can address him as John Smith," said Alexander and looked at her with the same placid smile. "He will be your teacher."

Teacher?

"John Smith will test your physicality skills." her father explained.

The idea surprised her. She was already excelling on a physical point, so why the need to train some more?

However, what happened next came as a shock to her. The two men stepped back, and 'John Smith' instantly ran towards her. She barely had enough time to dodge his upcoming metal arm, and even though she swiftly managed to do so, he quickly spun around and grabbed a generous amount of her hair with his other hand, yanking her backward and throwing her into the wall on the opposite side of the room without struggling. Her back crashed into the glass and the air was knocked out of her lungs. Small drops of saliva escaped her mouth and she hit the floor, breathing heavily in a vast attempt to regain what little air she had left. Was this yet another experiment, and if so, why couldn't she just use her abilities to finish him off? Seemed less demanding.

Watching her father look at her from the safe distance in the room with somewhat of a disheartened look in his eyes, she quickly dried the spit off her mouth and got to her feet. If she was allowed to be seen as weak once again, just like before, before she killed that man, she knew she would have to suffer the consequences. She was no stranger towards the things her father did to her, but she knew that they were always out of love and affection. He would never do or let anything happen to her unless he meant that it was for her own good. She loved her father, and in doing so, she was willing to do whatever meant necessary to ensure that he loved her in return. This man, John Smith, would not stand as an obstacle, or she would obliterate him herself. She was no longer weak.

Without thinking twice, the warmth from within her gathered to a heating point and her eyes began to glower. Her glare was solely fixated on the metal-armed opponent across the room, and with a flicker in her sight, she noticed the impressed looks on both her father and his companion's countenances. A sense of pride hit her and she knew that if her father was proud of her for doing this, nothing would stand ahead of that achievement she would reach. She threw her hand forth towards her opponent, prepared to strike against him in a similar fashion like the soldier from earlier. He seemed to acknowledge what she was doing, but he didn't look even half as surprised as the earlier opponent did. Was he familiar with special ones like herself? If so, was he prepared for what was about to happen?

Just as she prepared to ensure his permanent demise with the flicker of a finger, her father suddenly spoke up from the safe distance in the room. He sounded as composed and calm as ever, but there was a slight twist in his words as he spoke. "Dear, not this time," It sounded like he was just as surprised as herself, though he was far more capable of hiding it than she was. She shifted her face away from the soldier and to her father, her hand hadn't been let down yet. Her eyes were wide, but not to the degree where it was exaggerated. She searched his face for any answers, any confirmation of what to do. Usually, there would be a nod of approval or a shake if he was disapproving of her actions. However, there were none of the sorts this time.

The warmth from within her ceased and she watched as the other man whispered something into her father's ear. She could, of course, delve into his mind and demand of him to answer her as to what kind of absurd things he was telling him, but she respected her father's associates far too much to treat them like common enemies, even if she was unfamiliar with them and incapable of distinguishing them from other insignificant individuals whose lives were worth a mediocre in quantity. Her father seemingly agreed with whatever the man was suggesting and nodded once before turning to look back at his daughter with the smile she recognized so much.

"Like I said earlier, dear," he explained slowly as if lecturing her. "John here will force you to fight independently. As pointless as it seems, it's of valuable importance to us that you are properly supervised how to make due without your _specialties_. That means," There was an odd glimmer in his eyes. "That you will try and defeat him relying only on your body. Understood?"

Her mind came to a sudden halt, as did her body. She froze entirely at the sight of her father's unnerving look. If this wasn't supposed to be one of the regular tests she was used to, the ones that demanded her to push herself through the boundaries her body had set for her, then what was this supposed to accomplish to the degree where it would be beneficial? She was already capable of defending herself without her powers from tests in the past, but this didn't seem like that kind of test. If her father didn't want her to use her abilities, the ones that made up over half of her purpose, her existence, then was she supposed to make sure that the other parts of her were of equal use?

Her eyes lingered on her father for what felt like hours, even after there came a throbbing pain from the roots of her hair which dragged her forth and then proceeded to simultaneously throw a rib-crushing punch into her abdomen. It took her mind a couple of seconds to process what had just happened, but when it finally did, she was already on the floor with drops of blood ran down from her mouth and onto the surface beneath her. Her mouth stayed ajar for a minute or so, and no amount of oxygen was capable of either exiting or entering her lungs. There was a pain in her stomach unequalized by any she had ever felt before, one that not even the scalpels that had previously pierced through her were capable of surpassing.

There was a sound echoing through her eardrums, but they only got as far as to pass once before she was forcefully dragged up off the floor by the arm, and then there came loud _crack_ , and all she could recall from that moment was the uneven shape of said arm and the metal arm having forced it to bend at such an angle. Her mind went rapidly and she struggled to comprehend the situation without allowing her thoughts to block her view. She was weak?! No, she couldn't bear to look at her own father if he watched her, his own daughter and creation, fail him miserably like a waste of space. All the effort he had put into ensuring her survival, all of the resources he had exploited to perfect her, all the _affection_ she had been granted because of her usefulness. All of that would have been but a waste if she let this person, this _obstacle_ , render her a pitiful creation.

She wouldn't let it happen.

 _"You don't have to do this,"_

That was a lie. That woman had spit lies straight in her face. There was nothing she wouldn't do just to earn herself the favor of her father. _Nothing_.

Without considering the current angle of her arm, she whirled around and forced herself to look the masked soldier right in the eyes, seeing nothing at the moment but a pest in need of obliteration, and threw a punch right into his face square between the eyes. It wasn't hard to detect that it didn't affect him much, but he let go off her arm and she grasped the opportunity to back a severe amount of feet away from him, extending their distance. She favored the injured arm and she could feel that the bone was sticking out rather oddly from beneath her skin, but not to an excessive point. Without taking her eyes off her opponent, she wrapped her free hand around the elbow of her injured one and put an instant amount of pressure into it. The bone went into place with a semi-loud _snap_ and there was a lingering sensation of a sting in said arm, but nothing she hadn't experienced before. However, it would take it some time to properly heal together. Until then, she would have to rely on the rest of herself.

The pain in her abdomen hadn't healed yet and she could still feel the uneven throbbing beneath her ribs. Her stomach must have been punctured by one of the broken ribs, but she knew that they tended to get together sooner than the appendages ever did, so she didn't concern herself very much with them. Her heart was throbbing against the uninjured side of her ribs, but not out of fear. Her eyes stayed on her opponent as she shook her injured arm for a bit, ensuring that the pain wouldn't stand in her way. His eyes remained as dark as they had always been, but there was no sight of the person she had seen earlier, the one she could compare to herself. This one was no one but someone like herself; a creation meant to destroy other creations. That was their purposes in life, whatever that word truly meant.

She dared to cast a slight look in her father's direction, and like she anticipated, he seemed to be in a status standing between contented and perplexed. As did his companion, though his stare seemed somewhat more fixated on the actions of his own creation. As did she.

Then, at the same time, she and John Smith charged towards each other. He had the strength and the intimidating size, but she had the slyness and the small yet flexible size to aid her. Just as they were few feet away from each other, he prepared to throw his metal arm at her, seemingly at the same spot as earlier between her ribs, she threw herself down and beneath his legs, sliding on the other side of him. Before he could turn around, she jumped onto his back, grabbed a generous amount of his hair in each of her hands and threw herself over his head. For a split second, their eyes met, and she could easily detect the off-guardedness in his look, before her insignificant yet hurried weight pulled them both down to the ground.

She landed first, but she allowed her feet to catch her fall before she proceeded to forcibly pull the soldier on the side of herself and she let go of his hair, a few strands were left in her grip. He was slammed down on the ground with a loud thud, and she felt proud over having been successfully able to render her opponent defeated.

Or so she thought.

She quickly looked over at her father, a hopeful look in her eyes and something close to a smile beginning to spread over her lips. Hurriedly, she scanned his countenance in search of any satisfaction, of pride in her achievement. She hadn't used her abilities a single time and she had managed to force her foe on the ground using nothing but cleverness and what little of physical strength she possessed prior. However, his eyes were as empty and unreadable as the rest of him was. His mouth was nothing but a thin line, whereas his companion was grinning with what looked like arrogance, but he wasn't looking at her. At first, she didn't understand what it was that was entertaining him so much that it managed to summon a leer, blinded by her own disappointment as she failed to discover her father's approval.

Then, in the nick of time, she felt air from behind her blow a few strands of her hair to the side, and that was all she was able to recall before she felt a familiar cold grip pressure itself around the back of her neck and force her down on the ground, though twice as hard as before. Her chest's impact with the ground knocked the air out of her lungs to where it felt like they were internally squeezed from inside of her. Before she was able to regain it, she was forced to whirl around until she was laying flat on her back, though the grip around her throat didn't decrease at all.

The last thing she saw before something hard crashed into her face was the face of her opponent. There wasn't a mask this time to conceal half of him. She saw his entire face, everything from his weary face, torn with seemingly a long time of servitude and tests, like herself, to his eyes. Only then did she discover one thing about him that would stand out the most about his features. His eyes weren't dark like they had been earlier.

They were... _Blue_?

And for some reason, she no longer felt the urge to attack him even though she could, even though her father wanted her to.

Then, sooner than she expected, his free hand raised itself above her face, knotted itself into a fist, and crashed into her face. At first, she felt nothing but a cold sensation over her face, just on the bridge of her nose and between both of her eyes. After that, there was nothing more than numbness and silence. Blood spurted out of her nose, drenching everything from her upper lip and to the side. There was the familiar ringing echoing through her ears she could feel the increase of open wounds and impacts on her body from everywhere from her face to the abdomen and to her appendages. Her eyes never shut themselves, even as blood started to drip down from her forehead down to her eyes, slightly reddening her sight. Her eyes, the same color her father had said belonged to her mother, remained on those of her opponent as he continued to mangle her body without her acknowledging the pain she was supposed to.

At his leader's earlier commands, the person known as the Winter Soldier repeatedly continued to inflicted an increase of wounds on her. With his inhuman arm still keeping her down on the floor, he exploited every inch of strength in his free hand to make sure that Alexander Pierce wouldn't be disappointed in him. There was no ounce of remorse inside of him to feel pity for the girl. She was his current mission, to break and bend to seemingly unreachable lengths. He continued until her face was covered in blood and bruises, to where he could feel the broken bones move beneath his fist as it clashed down to her. He didn't know why, but his own eyes didn't leave hers during the process. They were locked together, like Death staring its victim in the eyes before the reaping. The only question was which one of them was who.

"That's enough,"

With one simple command from his superior, the soldier stopped, his hand still raised.

"I must ask," said the other man without much concern in his tone, despite the fact that his precious little test subject had just been brutally beaten, perhaps more so than she had in her entire life. "Was that strictly necessary?"

"It was," said Pierce without pause. "I told you once, Wilhelm, that through your doll might be stronger with her powers, she's just a child. She's not fit to become like him,"

"What if she could be?"

"She can't."

"What makes you say-"

"You can either have one or the other, but both might prove itself to be difficult and even impossible," Pierce placed a hand on Jeraslovik's shoulder, not out of comfort. "I'll give you credit for what you've provided Hydra with. Without you, we wouldn't be where we are now, that's for sure. However, this abomination you've created, this girl, she'll become too dangerous soon for containment if you keep this up."

Rather offended, Jeraslovik shook his hand off of him. "I've made it this far without you, Alexander," he scowled. "So I don't think I need your advice on what to do with her. You've accomplished your soldier, I'll say I'm impressed, but unlike him, mine's loyalty is entirely secured. I have raised since birth, as such, I'm not obligated to swipe away her memory for each mission which is succeeded."

"Are you insinuating anything, Wilhelm?"

"Not at all, Alexander," the doctor replied smoothly, daring to risk some bantering with an old friend. "Only that I cannot help but notice that the soldier's loyalty seems a bit _unpredictable_ if I'm reading you correctly."

Pierce growled a few incoherent words to himself, visibly aggravated, but quickly made sure that the placid smile returned to its original place. "Very well, Wilhelm. Do as you wish."

"Of course," They shook hands again, both were smiling, but both the gestures seemed equally forced. "But do you have any more advice for me before you leave?"

Pierce shook his head and drew his hand away. "Nothing that you aren't already aware of. Physically, I'd say she would know how to make her way around something with ease. However, unless you intend on keeping her locked in here forever, I would suggest that you teach her the basic principles of human rules. Teach her how to read and write and increase her vocabulary. It may prove itself to be beneficial, don't you think?"

"I intend to," said Jeraslovik with a singular nod. "By the way, how are your plans on infiltrating SHIELD going, if you don't mind me asking? How's Fury?"

Pierce let out a dry laugh and tried to keep his equanimity in check, though it was struggling. "It's not long now."

"I will look forward to it. Perhaps Hydra will extend their territory if it succeeds?" Jeraslovik suggested.

"It will."

And with that, Pierce and his soldier exited the room, with the latter casting one last look down at his upbeat and bloodied opponent before leaving the cell.


	4. Chapter 4: Monsters Through The Peephole

**Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers**

 **Warning: Avengers AU (** **Involves explicit content and abuse)**

* * *

 _ **Chapter 4: Monsters through the Peephole**_

* * *

 _"Blind belief in authority is the greatest enemy of truth."- Albert Einstein_

* * *

 _It was dark. The only kind of color she had known throughout her life. She didn't know all of their names, only the basic of red, blue and gray, but it was the shades of those colors that had made themselves apparent on almost every occasion she could think about. Without looking back, she continued walking forth in the darkness, neither stopping nor shifting direction, even when her feet began to bleed through the surface of her skin and cause her the kind of pain her father would dismiss as 'insignificant' and 'endurable'._

 _Her father?_

 _For the first time in what felt like an unbearably long one, she stopped in her steps and turned her head from left to right, scanning through the perimeter of the darkness that had accustomed itself to her only surroundings. A part of her wished to find her father, to acknowledge that she was no longer standing alone in the seemingly endless maze she had become trapped in. However, unknown to her, another part of her wished to be left alone. It somehow seemed a little less scary than standing there with **him**._

 _Wait... What was she thinking? She shook her head frantically and began pounding both of her hands on each side of her forehead with shame. He was her **father** , she would never want to be separated from him. He loved her, cared for her, protected her from the dangerous people that wanted to steal her away from him if they got the chance. He had always been there for her since the start, making her stronger and preparing her for the worst that had yet to come. He loved her, and he would never hurt her or do anything which would cause her intentional harm. _

_Cold sweat began to slide down from her skin, her knees were shaking and there was this sense of dread echoing through her system which seemed to take a hold of her senses. Wait... **Fear**? That was ridiculous! She didn't fear anything, she couldn't afford to. One of the most important values her father had taught her was that fear weakened a person, caused them to feel insignificant things such as remorse and reluctance to do what had to be done. It shouldn't have become something she would ever have to experience ever again. Not like that damned woman had._

 _"You don't have to do this, you know?"_

 _She froze entirely, her body stopped shaking and sweating and her hands lowered themselves down from her face and granted her sight again, something she had denied herself earlier. Her eyes prepared to search for the owner of that voice, the same voice she swore she could remember from long ago, yet somehow it seemed as if it was just yesterday since she had last heard it._

 _Looking for the owner didn't require a lot of effort, as **she** was standing right there in front of her. It was **her**. She recognized the brown, wavy hair which barely reached her hips, the faintest hint of red in her eyes, that pretty face. It was the same woman she had fought earlier, the one whose brother she had almost annihilated then and there. The sight of blood still made its way to her mind, and even though she had seen such similar views numerous of times in her life, it was that particular scene which seemed to unnerve her the most. _

_But why did it? It wasn't supposed to._

 _The woman, she couldn't remember her name, was looking down at her with an odd look in her eyes. It was nothing like the kind of looks she had witnessed her opponents give her before she destroyed them, but this one somehow seemed... Strange._

 _"I refuse to harm an innocent," the woman said and shook her head._

 _Innocent? She still didn't know what that word meant._

 _"... Innocent?" she asked and made sure to keep their distance fair. Maybe she was another opponent? If so, why wasn't she attacking her? Her dark blue eyes scanned the woman's appearance from head to toe, acknowledging every detail of her face to all of the inches on her body. She looked so... Beautiful. Not in the kind of way her father would call her whenever he looked at her, but in a kind of way which made it peaceful to look at her. Whereas the woman's hair was long and wild like the air, hers was dark and short, unevenly cut. The woman's skin was flawless and lively, her own was pale and covered in cuts and scars from earlier procedures and fights. They did heal, but there would always be something left of their presence. They never really disappeared._

 _She felt... Envious?_

 _The woman then smiled warmly at her and reached a hand to towards her, beckoning her forth._

 _At first, she took a hesitant step away and attempted to use her powers to look through the woman's mind, but she was unable to find anything at all. It was like delving into the mind of empty air. Her first instincts told her to attack or run, preferably the former, but there was something about the woman's kind smile which shook the uneasiness off her shoulders. It was like she was protected by her, in a way which her own father was unable to._

 _Then, just for a split second, she slowly reached her own hand up towards the woman's, actually intending on taking it. There was a sense of warmth oozing from her presence, a peaceful sensation, but just as the tip of her fingers just barely grazed those of the woman's, a sharp pain erupted through her chest and forced her to stop. Her eyes fell down onto a sharp, red, knife-like object which had pierced her skin and stuck out from the center of her chest._

 _Her breathing began to pitch up and she felt the same sort of dread she had experienced only moments earlier, and when she looked up to search for the woman, search for the protection she could offer, she found no one standing there anymore. She was alone again._

 _Another sharp object penetrated her, this time through her left wrist. Then came another one, through her right wrist, then a fourth one, through her throat._

 _Something linked to each of the knives was forcefully pulling her back, sliding her across the nonexistent ground, trapping her. She tried to open her mouth to scream something, but no sound escaped her. In one last attempt to free herself, she drew her hand forward, ignoring the sharp pain that threatened to render her completely in agony, and outstretched her hand towards where the woman had once been standing._

 _A single word, nothing more, made its way out of her mouth, but it sounded so weak and so miserable that she doubted anyone could hear her._

 _"... Help..."_

 _The strings attached to the knives began to wrap themselves around the areas around her body that were trapped, enhancing their grasp around her. Marks around her body began to appear, twice as visible as her scars were. They hurt her, pierced through her skin and forced her to submit to them. A part of her wanted the pain to be over, but another wanted to fight back and free herself from their entanglement._

 _But which of those options were available for her?_

* * *

"Again."

Thousands of bullets flew across the room, all of them were aimed at just a single target, yet none of them succeeded to as much as graze a strand of her hair. The twelve soldiers on the north side of the hall were all covered beneath thick layers of resistant armors and protective gear, not even their faces were visible behind their concealing masks. For each second which passed, thousands and thousands of more bullets would continue to exit their enhanced weapons. If one thing was for certain, had anyone but herself been targeted as their aim, there would've been a lot of blood splattered on the walls. Jeraslovik stood behind the protective confinement and eyed the scene through the glass wall with a pleasured glimmer in his eyes as he watched his precious doll move gracefully and equally deadly across the room with inhuman speed, effectively dodging each and every bullet without effort.

When it came to speed, Pietro Maximoff had that covered and, as much as Jeraslovik loathed to admit it, his daughter would never reach such a velocity herself. However, her powers ensured her survival through the shooting and, without breaking a sweat, the cyan energy that resonated from her skin allowed her to run towards the soldiers at the far end of the room. The bullets hit some kind of invisible wall in front of her and left her unscathed, but the moment she entered their close range, the soldiers seemed to genuinely fear for their lives then and there. He could not be any more delighted.

Without a sound escaping her lips, she threw her hand to the side, and in less than a mediocre second, all of the shooting came to an abrupt stop and each and every soldier in the room were thrown back into the walls, the sound of cracks and broken bones echoed through the room. A cry escaped one of them, but she wouldn't hear of it. With the flicker of a finger, the empty shells having previously occupied the room levitated up into the air and were sent directly towards them. Occasional cries rang through the enclosed space, and soon enough, there remained nothing more but bloodied corpses on the ground having been punctured with numerous holes in them.

Jeraslovik clapped his hands together and exited the protective confinement. "Bravo, dear! Bravo!" he called triumphantly and approached her. Like always, he detected no ounce of remorse on her features, no sorrow or regret, no humanity. Her eyes were as hollow as a husk, albeit they were vaguely fixated on the sight of the deceased opponents she had just disposed of herself. This wasn't the first time she had killed someone so easily, but it was hardly the last one. When she first killed someone, he could spot the faintest hint of regret in her eyes. But now she had become indifferent to the sensation of being the executioner, and it thrilled him. It was soon time.

He drew his hand around a generous amount of her hair and closed in the distance of his face, sniffing its scent. Sweet, salty, _savoring_. She didn't move at all, nor did she as much as acknowledge her father. Her eyes were solely placed on the corpses, much to his dismay. He knew he would have to do something about that attitude of hers, but one step at the time was preferable. It had been six months since the fight between her and Pierce's puppet had occurred, and ever since then, she had only improved herself physically with his _assistance_. Despite the fact that she could never quite reach the physical potential of a young woman like herself, and since she was incapable of building a whole lot of muscle mass, she would always need to rely on her abilities to keep her steady.

He pulled back and sighed blissfully, allowing the scent of her hair to linger for a couple of seconds before regaining his equanimity. A group of soldiers entered the room and removed the corpses of their deceased fellows in a matter of seconds, not saying anything other than what was to be expected. As soon as they left, he placed a firm hand on her shoulder and pulled her along with him out of there. She didn't resist, nor did she say anything. If he didn't know better, he would almost guess that he had rendered her completely mute. But he _knew_ better.

"Like I always am, dear," he said and gestured for her to enter the showers, and she obliged without reluctance. " _Proud_." he finished and closed the door behind them, thus leaving the two of them alone in the stalls. The walls were stained with lack of hygiene and remainders of old blood from other earlier test specimen, and there were no walls there to separate each of the stalls from one another. Privacy was a privilege which Hydra couldn't afford to abide by the rules of. To them, nothing was excluded from their view, as it may provide them with insightful information regardless of the perversity of the situation.

The sound of dripping from the showerheads excluded the unavoidable silence which lingered in the empty atmosphere surrounding them. Jeraslovik stalked forward, placing both of his hands on each of his daughter's shoulders and forced her to look up at him. Her eyes were as empty as they always were, and for some reason, it irked him to have her look at him like he was just another of her opponents, like he was just someone she wasn't supposed to address as her creator. He knew he had forcefully grasped her absolute loyalty and dependence, making her rely on him in order to function properly. It was bliss, absolute pleasure, to know that he had succeeded after so many years of hard work. Almost seventeen in total, and it all paid off as anticipated.

However, he couldn't stand to have her look at _him_ like just another insignificant person. She owed him her smile, an expression of obedience than just through her actions. She could kill as many as a thousand people and still not even flinch, but that wouldn't satisfy him anymore. He wanted her to say something, express something through the body he and his deceased wife had granted him the night he planned to have her conceived. He didn't know why, but the idea of her _smiling_ to him was absolutely _enticing_. Even more so than her powers alone had done in the past. She owed him that much, right? He had made her, enhanced her, created the one she had become. He earned something as insignificant from her at least.

Lifting his left-hand up from her shoulder and above his head, Jeraslovik provided her face with a harsh backhand. Her head jerked to the side at the impact, but she didn't move an inch from her spot, nor did she let out something as a yelp. She wasn't a stranger to the sensation of his method of discipline because it always served a beneficial purpose. He never did it out of cruelty or personal pleasure, but because it earned results.

There was the faintest streak of crimson liquid oozing down from a precise line on the cheek he had hit, but it only stayed on the outside for a mere couple of seconds before the blood began to retreat back into the wound. As that happened, the skin forming around it began to sew itself together like an invisible threat was pulling them together. Soon enough, there was no longer any cut there, though there was still a red mark left. Nothing that wouldn't heal itself. He had to let out a sigh. "See that, dear?" he asked affectionately and pulled the few strands of hair that had fallen into her face away, revealing once again her fatigued yet captivating eyes. Similar to her mother's.

"Such power," he gently slid a finger across her reddened cheek, marveling the sight of her stoic persona. The one he had contributed to creating, and the same one he intended on seeing through for the first time in years. "Such beauty." When his finger trailed to the skin on her neck, relishing the sensation of the soft skin beneath his fingertips, she suddenly flinched. Not much, but there nonetheless.

He stopped immediately and his mind went rapidly. His eyes grew wide and he fixated them both on her face, wordlessly demanding for an explanation. Her eyes, both which were once pointed at him, were shifted away. She _refused_ to look at him. The man who had secured her life, _protected_ her, _loved_ her, done everything in his power to make sure that she got it, and now she was going as far as to _disobey_ his wishes?! Was she truly that spoilt? That _rotten_? His teeth clenched together in-between his lips, reflecting their shiny exterior for everyone to see had there been anyone else in the room. They could easily have been mistaken for those of a wolf had it not been for the circumstances.

Without warning, he threw his hand towards her and grabbed her hair, forcing her to look at him with a pained expression on her face. Now that was something he enjoyed looking at her with. It was a sign that she knew who held the power, _him_ , and she would do well not to tamper with it again. He thought he had truly managed to make her a hundred percent obedient, but it would seem like he was mistaken once more. A leer formed on his face and he knew he would have to ensure that she would never attempt at something like this ever again. He would have to discipline her properly. However, doing something as petty as pulling her hair wouldn't suffice enough. She had to be taught how to earn his forgiveness through strict instructions, instructions he would personally teach her himself.

With as much force as he could muster, which wasn't a tiny amount, he slammed her to the floor and forced her to remain, never letting go of his grip on her head. A weak gasp escaped her lips, almost at an inaudible point, but he heard it. Leaning his head down next to hers, he whispered in her ear as smooth as he was capable of, ignoring all of the evident anger and betrayal in his features. "Why did you make me do that, dear?" he asked her, not even bothering to await a reply from her. "Why did you do something like that to your father? Don't you love me?"

When she still didn't answer, he responded with yanking her head up to face him, his eyes were wide and veins were popping out from under his skin. "Don't you love me anymore, _dear_?" he asked again, less patiently this time but no less smoothly. She still didn't answer him, nor did she let her own eyes meet his own. Why wouldn't she look at him? The question pierced his head like a knife.

Without hesitating, Jeraslovik forcefully pulled her back and then threw her into the wall closest to them. She hit it with her back and slid down to the floor, landing on her stomach with her arms folded beneath her, looking barely capable of getting up, but she still didn't open her eyes. At this point, it was hard to contain himself from letting all of the anger out. Hell, he might have considered killing her if it ever came to that, but he knew he couldn't. Instead, it would suffice with some _tough love_ instead.

Jeraslovik dusted off his clothes and folded his sleeves up, regaining his composure and straightening the shoulders of his coat. "You've been a bad girl, dear," he said and kneeled down in front of her. As he looked at her, he couldn't help but feel pity for her. She was so beautiful and so full of potential, but it would be that rebellious spirit which would be the end of her. He put a comforting hand on her hair and stroke it gently down the sides. Her eyes were open but fixated on something other than himself. Following her gaze, it fell on a drop of blood in front of her that had fallen into the water after her impact on the wall. Only then did he realize that her nose was bleeding, slowly staining the space in front of her face.

It wasn't often he saw her bleed from something as insignificant as that, except when necessary procedures were warranted for. But it still seemed strange to see her in such a feeble state.

 _Weak_

"You know I love you, right, dear?" he asked with a defeated sigh as he trailed his hand down from her head to the neck of her shirt, locating the buttons keeping them together. One after another, he began to unbutton them, following the trail leading down to the brim of her shoulder blades. She still didn't move, even though she knew what was about to happen. Truly obedient, a dog in other words, but he knew that it would be considered an insult, a quite vulgar one, to address her as such. She was so much more than a rabid beast, yet he would stand out as the only person whom the cage would protect. The others in the facility were constantly at risk.

He was the one who pulled at the strings.

The unbuttoned fabric revealed the soft and porcelain-white skin beneath, resonating its beauty into the room and right at him. "Truly beautiful," he murmured more to himself than to anyone else. His fingers drifted to touch it delicately, yearned to feel them beneath his tips, to caress it once more like he had before. It seemed like so long, yet neither of them had forgotten about it. Whereas Jeraslovik savored the memory of having her for himself more than he usually was allowed to, he was incapable of acknowledging what she associated that memory with. He could, of course, heed Pierce's advice and purposefully replace or discard her memories, but that would grant him nothing more than more trouble with having to have her familiarize herself with him once again. Besides, unlike the Soldier, Jeraslovik fretted not for his own creation's absolute loyalty for even a mediocre moment. She was _his_.

"You know I only want what's best for you?" he asked.

"... Yes," Her voice was weak and hoarse, barely inaudible but still there. It felt like years since he had last heard it, and it thrilled him to be reunited with it once again.

"You know I would never hurt you?"

"... Yes,"

"I love you,"

"..."

" _Dear_?"

She didn't answer him.

 _Why didn't she answer him?_

Unable to contain himself any further, Jeraslovik ripped the back of her shirt open, revealing her entire back, bruised, scarred, and disfigured beyond mending. Numerous and numerous of scars, none of which were appealing to look at, yet all of which he would enjoy touching again. He could feel her slightly move beneath him as he leaned over, but rather than acting out on his childish frustration, he smiled warmly and said, "Don't be afraid, dear," The weight on her back increased, but she stayed still. "I'm not going to hurt you."

The door suddenly swung open, and walking in came the crimson witch of Strucker herself. There was a moment of complete silence at first, but her eyes soon landed on the sight which appeared in front of her and she froze in complete shock and disgust. "What are you doing?" she breathed out, barely capable of pronouncing any of the words properly without allowing the urge to vomit then and there to submerge.

Jeraslovik felt tempted to backhand her and force her to leave them be, but he refrained and stood up, grinning like the maniacal sadist he was but didn't know himself. "Isn't it past your- _GAH_!" A sudden force wrapped itself around his throat, lifting him up above the ground and forcing him to keep his words silent. The wretched woman's eyes were glimmering with the scarlet aura which had sort of become her namesake around the facility, but though a part of Jeraslovik felt pleasure for having become one of the first ones to witness it for himself first hand, another part raged against the woman for daring to stand against the authority of his own creation.

"You're a monster," the woman spoke, glaring at him as she held her left hand up in what looked like to be an amalgamation of a fist and an outstretched palm. "You don't even qualify for being human with what you've done to her."

Then, Jeraslovik found himself laughing. He laughed more than he had ever done in his life, ever since his precious child had escaped her mother's womb and stolen her life with it. This woman, this petty little creature who thought that she was some sort of deity just because she had some special abilities, had somehow grasped the authority to throw such a statement at him. Human? Hardly. That term didn't apply to him anymore, it hadn't since his daughter's birth. No, he was so _muchmuchmuch_ more than just a human. He was God himself, the Savior of Humanity and the creator of Good. This woman was nothing more than a pale representation of Cain, who took the risk of enraging her God. It was truly laughable.

The laughter was soon replaced with contempt and anger beyond vocal comprehension, and he spat as he spoke at her. "I'm so much more than that!"

"No, you're not," And then, she proceeded to swing her hand to the left and he simultaneously hit the wall furthest in the room with a force so strong that he could feel the bone in his nose snapping beneath the impact. He hit the floor with a grunt and didn't get up, but was far from unconscious.

His daughter's eyes slowly gained back their original focus and they landed on the woman standing in the room, the same woman she had not seen since the day she had almost killed her and her brother. It was odd. Why was she there? Why did she attack her father? Were her intentions to fight her and reclaim the victory she was unable to grasp the last time they encountered? Whatever it was, what happened next clearly didn't sit right with her initial suspicions.

The woman approached her with a saddened look on her face, but why was she sad? She didn't look hurt at all, and every inch of visible skin wasn't concealed with scars like her own was. Was this an expression of empathy, the thing her father always told her was a warranted weakness of humankind? If so, why was she expressing it towards her?

The woman kneeled down in front of her and suddenly pulled her up into what seemed to be an embrace. Her body felt warm against her own, the kind of warmth not even her own clothes could provide with. Her father had embraced her in similar ways before, some more forced, but this woman's, this stranger's embrace, seemed more like the kind which never took anything in return. It provided her with unconditional consolation, warmth, _protection_. She could hear the faint heartbeats beneath her ear as the woman steadied her up.

"Are you alright?" she asked, buttoning up the buttons on the back of her clothes until they reached all the way up, doing her best to ignore the scars.

She didn't know how to respond to that, much less how to react to this sudden act of... Kindness? Did this woman not remember that she was holding the very same person who once defeated her in a fight, the same person who nearly killed her brother in the most gruesome fashion imaginable?

Not knowing what to do, she pushed herself out of the embrace and got up to her feet, glaring at the woman with neither spite nor contempt, but cautiousness. She was a potential threat to her safety, as well as that of her father, who was still beaten down on the opposite side of the shower stalls. The sight of his lying there enraged her, and she cast another look towards her opponent, one which conjured what happened next.

 ** _'Enemy,'_**

Before the woman could get up on her own feet, Jeraslovik's creation flicked her hand up and conjured the tingling sensation of powers from within her. The woman instantly went stiff and all oxygen escaped her lungs as she was thrown against the closest wall with lines of cyan wrapping themselves around her frame.

Unexpectedly, the woman mustered her own range of powers just in time as crimson lines appeared from the tips of her fingers and slowed down the velocity of the attack, shielding her from the upcoming danger. The red entangled themselves with the cyan ones from her opponent, and her hand grazed the ground beneath her and she slowed down just in time to stand inches away from the wall. It was clear that the years which had passed had granted her an increase in powers, but that could easily be said for the both of them.

Though she had been caught off-guard by this, she didn't let it blur her judgment and determination for success. Her father wouldn't approve if she ended up losing again, and all memories from that vision from earlier erased itself from her mind. Innocence? What did that mean? It didn't matter anymore. No mercy was allowed, and the woman would have to suffer the consequences of attacking her father. She prepared to throw another attack, the warmth within her was swelling up to a boiling point and her eyes began to glower in the same color as they always had, but this time they were accompanied by an aura of madness and ruthlessness.

Suddenly, the woman's countenance changed from shocked to betrayed and disbelieving. "Why are you doing this? I'm trying to help you!"

"That was your mistake," a cold voice spoke up, and Wanda Maximoff watched as the figure of Jeraslovik approached from where he had been previously put down. The glasses on the bridge of his nose were broken and shattered beyond repair, but they still somehow managed to stay in place. She watched as he calmly walked over to the girl and placed a hand on her shoulder, like a parent praising his child. The girl remained unaffected by this behavior, even after what he was just about to do to her. Why wasn't she fighting against him?

The doctor grinned, proud of himself like he always was but with a hint of a superior kind of arrogance, unlike the one he usually displayed to whoever stood in his presence. The narcissism practically reeked off him. "Your little tricks won't have any effect on her," His arm draped over her shoulder a little further down, dangerously close to her chest, heeding no courtesy or sign of shame whatsoever. The girl didn't seem to mind at all, she barely acknowledged this, just like she hadn't acknowledged what happened earlier. Her eyes were solely fixated on Wanda's.

Wanda could hardly believe what she was seeing. "What have you done to her?" she snapped, barely able to keep herself from finishing the man off then and there. She understood that there existed Monsters out in the world, real monsters that stripped people of their homes, their families, their _lives_. She and her brother had experienced that first-hand a long time ago, caused by Anthony Stark himself. This man, however, this inhuman thing, had performed the ultimate cruelty upon a girl who barely looked like she was much older than what she and Pietro were when they first volunteered to the experiments. This man had taken her humanity away, her _innocence_. She was still unable to look into her mind because it appeared to be shielded by a barrier at all times, but the look in her eyes, those soulless eyes, was all it took.

"I haven't taken anything from her that she would need," said the doctor with a shrug, sparing the woman no brutal indifference regardless of what his actions had caused. Wanda raised her hand and her eyes began to glow as the heat resonating inside of her began to rise. She was infuriated beyond what words could describe, but somehow, the doctor's unimpressed look made it seem like her move was anticipated.

It was.

" ** _Kill her_** ," the doctor ordered his creation without raising his tone at all, but somehow it seemed like that was all it took to send her into hostility mode. Her eyes began to glow and there was a split moment where Wanda felt an ominous force wrap itself around her neck and threaten to choke her again. But in the nick of time, the door leading into the stall opened up and Strucker entered. For once in her life, Wanda felt grateful for having him there. The grip around her throat vanished and so did the glower in the girl's eyes.

Strucker didn't look as dumbfounded as he would've had not the situation been any more clear. He looked at both Wanda and the girl before his eyes darted up to Jeraslovik, a lingering glare stayed in place of his eyes. "Wilhelm, a word alone,"

"Of course, Wolfgang," Jeraslovik looked down at his creation again. "Father has to stay behind for a while. Return to your cell, alright, dear?"

The girl nodded curtly and walked past both Wanda and Strucker without as much as batting an eye in their direction. A minute later, Wanda followed behind and didn't wish to stay in the presence of two of the most threatening men in the entire facility. She wanted to return to her brother immediately.

The door closed behind her and now only the men stood alone in the bathroom stalls. Strucker crossed his arms and awaited an explanation whereas Jeraslovik, in spite of his bruised-up self, didn't look any less arrogant than he usually did. Finally, the silence was broken. "Do not think of me for a fool, Jeraslovik," Strucker was less than pleased but was miraculously able to keep his tone in check.

"Have I ever taken you for one, old friend?" His broken glasses threatened to fall off his nose as he chuckled.

Strucker was unimpressed. "For almost seventeen years you never cease to surprise me, and not in a good way." His eyes sharpened. "You were about to order your creation to finish off my own."

Jeraslovik shrugged. "The girl was being a nuisance. I lost my tempe-"

"And I cannot help but notice your increasing obsession with your precious doll,"

"Obsession?" It was Jeraslovik's turn to be surprised. "Whatever do you mean?"

"Be that as it may, I'm still the one with the power here. If I see fit in exterminating her, I won't hesitate to do so."

Strucker knew he had hit some nerves by the way his companion's left eye began to twitch and his fists began to curl. "You won't."

"Oh? Why can't I?" Strucker feigned obliviousness.

"Because if you do, I will order _her_ to kill every last one of you here."

He found the threat hardly intimidating. "Really? Isn't she expendable now that you have the other one? Why keep her if you have _him_?"

Jeraslovik stiffened at the mention of this, and his fingers curled back but stayed twitching. "He's but a potential replacement if something was to happen to her. Until that happens, we keep him in Siberia. Don't let him wake up, or calamity is sure to occur whilst under your watch."

Strucker tilted his head curiously to the side as Jeraslovik made his way past him and to the exit to the stalls. "And why fear for this one more than the one you are currently in the possession of? Aren't they the same level of dangerous?"

None of them turned to look at the other and they didn't need to. "Because I haven't tamed him like I have her. He's a loose cannon, a walking death. He doesn't differ from right or wrong, and he most certainly doesn't know when to stop shedding blood."

"Yes, I read the reports. He apparently killed over fifty guards in an attempt to escape the facility, but it seems like your brother got to him just in time before anything... Unpleasant occured."

"For once, I'm grateful he was there to stop him. But my brother isn't like me. He knows no boundaries and he won't hesitate to do what is necessary to ensure that his goals are reached," Jeraslovik continued. "A trait from our dear father."

"I sense a connection there."

He ignored the remark. "and there was only one order I managed to imprint into _his_ mind before _he_ was put into cryo."

"Which was?" Strucker drawled.

Jeraslovik opened the door and was about to leave, but not before answering the question he had been asked.

" _Kill_."

"But Wilhelm, you almost sound doubtful over _her_. Can it finally be that your faith in _her_ is dissolving?" There was an underlying mock at the back of the Baron's words, and it wasn't subtle at all.

"Don't be stupid, of course it hasn't."

"And one other thing."

Jeraslovik looked over his shoulder. "What?"

"Keep performing such vile acts on her and we might have to consider a change of supervision. We can't have a _monster_ walking through these walls, can we?"

"Which monster are you referring to?"

Strucker didn't get to answer before the door shut, leaving him alone with nothing but an echo to keep him company.

"Useless."

* * *

The second Wanda met her brother again back in the cell which they shared, she instantly told him about what had happened, about the attempted violation, the doctor, the girl whom she encountered again after years. Whereas she was feeling upset and paranoid about the intentions of Hydra, Pietro expressed nonchalance and indifference to whatever happened to the girl and all the others as long as his sister remained unscathed. He cared for her more than anything else in the entire universe, and whatever happened to that girl who almost killed the both of them long ago was none of his concern.

"She's not your responsibility, Wanda," he said and sat up on his bed, eyeing her as she kept pacing back and forth in the cell, unconsciously levitating a couple of objects over her head. She had a tendency to do that whenever she was feeling distressed, and though he was usually concerned on her behalf, he knew that this reason was nothing that was worth her worry at all. "She's Jeraslovik's abomination-"

"How can you say such, Pietro?" She stopped in her tracks and turned to look at him, disappointment and disbelief in her glowing eyes. A pinch of guilt coursed through him as she looked at him like their mother used to whenever they did something mischievously back at home, but he had to look through that to make her regain her common sense. "She is barely the age that we were when we joined this hellhole."

"Which we did to get revenge on Tony Stark, nothing else," he countered. "She's here on her own accord."

"No, she's not."

"How do you know? I thought you couldn't look through her head."

"I can't, but I know pain when I see it."

"She almost killed us back then. She's dangerous."

"So are we, but we still have a choice to live our lives like we choose to. We could escape anytime we want, but what if she can't?"

"Then that's her decision," He leaned back into his bed and sighed with frustration over his sister's stubbornness. It was a trait they shared, and even though he was more than expressive about it aloud, his sister too tended to let her emotional side get over her easily. "She's beyond saving, Wanda. You can't save everyone."

"But I still want to save those few we can."

"What if you can't save her?"

"I'll try," his sister looked at him with an expression which signified determination, and whenever she was hellbent on doing something, she rarely backed down.

He sighed yet again. "How?"

Her gaze seemed to falter, but it didn't go away. "I will figure out a way."

"Good luck with that."


	5. Chapter 5: Best the Grim Reaper

**Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers**

 **Warning: Avengers AU**

* * *

 _ **Chapter 5: Best the Grim Reaper**_

* * *

 _"'You,' he said. 'are a terribly real thing in a terribly false world, and that, I believe, is why you are in so much pain.'"  
\- Friedrich Nietzsche_

* * *

There lingered a throb inside of her chest, one that could not be satiated by either her father's affections or by her own success. There was no real answer to state that the sensation belonged to pain at all, but whatever it was, it ached her more than the procedures in the past did, more than the scalpels which separated each piece of skin on her body and shredded her open like a corpse in a morgue. For unknown causes, it bothered her more than it should've, according to her father if she ever dared to mention such trivial matters in his presence.

Still, the feeling didn't last for long. She had adjusted herself to letting things easily slip into her subconsciousness and remain there unless they were of importance to her in the future. The throb in her chest would have to stay low, or better yet, unheard of. It would be for the best if she never let such pointless thoughts make their way to her focus. It would grant nothing but problems she couldn't afford to concern herself about. Her thoughts fell on her father, on the woman with the red stripes, and on the Baron. All three of them had been present at some point in her life whether or not she dared acknowledge that prospect as truthful. All of them had imprinted something on her.

The former was always there, the latter was only occasionally there to observe her progress, in which case she didn't disappoint, but the one standing in-between them was the one who puzzled her the most. Why was she there to begin with? Why did she attack her father for no reason? Why was she... holding her up and providing her with words of no sentimental value to her? Was it _empathy_ she was expressing? The ability to understand and share the feelings of another? If so, why was the woman expressing such towards her? She attacked her father and then embraced her? What was the point of such... _Humanity_? The very word she had been taught to loathe thoroughly.

The answer didn't get to her, nor would it ever before the door leading into the cell suddenly opened. Her eyes flickered upon the recognition of Dr. List, one of her father's associates, as he entered through the door with a notepad in his firm grip. His face was worn and weary from evident exhaustion and fatigue and his features were severely older than her father's. He only showed himself to her whenever he was to undergo physical tests on her, but not like the ones her father did. This one's tasks was to check to see if her bodily functions were working like they were supposed to - her heart rate, her pulse, her digestive system, and whether or not she was stable enough to continue with the experiments according to the stats.

"Stand up," he ordered her without an equal increase in his tone than his features, and she obeyed without reluctance. Her father had made it clear that she was to follow List's orders without objection unless he posed as a threat to her or if he attempted to perform rather unorthodox tests on her which Jeraslovik otherwise would not have allowed himself. She pulled her bare feet down on the cold surface beneath her and walked a pair of steps towards the doctor, but stopped just as she placed himself a few feet away from her. Her eyes met his as she waited for further orders and he looked down at the notepad in his grip to follow the procedures accordingly.

"Follow me," he said and turned around, preparing to exit the room and expecting her to do the same. She followed him quietly and didn't speak a word, nor that she ever intended to in the beginning. Silent voices weren't an uncommon attribute to possess within the walls of the facility as it provided the scientists and doctors there with comfort and prevented them from being exposed to any unnecessary adversaries. It wasn't uncommon for any other test subjects to raise their opinions to the roof if they were allowed the chance, such as the woman and her brother, but she had been taught subtleness and discipline. She didn't dare to ever raise her voice at any of them, but attacking them was another matter.

They entered the room where the doctor usually did his examination of her, as it was provided with all of the required equipment he would need throughout the procedure. It was a hollow room, no windows or walls which exposed them where they stood, unlike her own cell which was only composed of four transparent walls to keep her under constant surveillance. This room granted them privacy, which was a privilege Hydra seldom could afford to care for.

List turned to her. "Undress," he said and gestures to her clothing, which she expressionlessly did. This was hardly the first examination she had been through before, and thus she knew how to act and what to do for each time. The doctor only came once a month to check up on her, and though he wasn't as authorial as her father or as the Baron, she did well not to challenge his figure. She didn't have the recklessness to do so. Though his characteristics were probably more humble and discreet when compared to her father or to the Baron, he was no less ruthless when it came to his ambitions.

Reaching her arm over her shoulder to reach for the buttons keeping her clothes together, she began to tug them off in similar ways like her father had until they were entirely unbuttoned and the dress slid off her, revealing her exposed body to the doctor. He looked unamused and gestured for her to sit down on the chair so that he could take her pulse. She did so and, without warning, the doctor grabbed her wrist and placed his thumb firmly on one of them, counting the throbs beneath it until sixty seconds passed.

He scribbled down the results on the notepad and proceeded to have her stand up and let him measure her height. From her toes to the top of her head, he measured her using a tape and was not at all surprised by the results he received. A solid five-foot-four. It had hardly changed since a year ago. For her age, it wasn't that uncommon to be of that short stature, especially if she was malnourished and missing vital nutrients from the start. Convincing Jeraslovik to see if there would be any severe progress in her development if she was allowed to consume more was but a waste of time, seeing it as the latter didn't wish to have her undergo bothers maintaining any weight unless it was desperately required. As long as she was stable, he was content.

When he was done with her height, he pulled out a scale and had her step on it to figure out whether or not her weight was accurate or not. The numbers displayed on it had him hum to himself with dissatisfaction, but not out of concern for her well-being. The numbers were severely low for her height, but it didn't surprise him. It merely surprised him how she was still standing without visibly trembling in her stance. Then again, he supposed it did make sense when he took a second glance at her meek frame. Her bones were showing considerably beneath her skin and her infertility would've resulted in her not being able to develop like she should've, which in turn resulted in her lack of body fat percentage.

She stepped off the scale and waited for a new order. List gestured for her to reach her hand forth, which she did, and, without warning, he pulled out a syringe and pierced it through her skin, drawing an insignificant amount of blood from her. It was evident that she had been caught off-guard by this sudden act since he rarely took any blood examples from her. However, she didn't refrain and merely regained her emotionless facade as she watched the crimson liquid fill the tube bit by bit. It felt odd to see it like that in one piece, but it wasn't a sight she was alien towards. _Blood_. It had more than often made itself present to her, primarily because she was usually the one who drew it from others. Her opponents.

When the doctor felt content with the amount he had gained, he pulled the needle back and watched with a sign of admiration as the small drop left on her skin got sucked back into the open cut and sew together like with an invisible threat. He had always supported his earlier protege with achieving his goals since he had always proven himself to be an asset to Hydra, but there were at times where he found his attitude to be reckless beyond comprehensible words. Even he had never reached that point of no return himself, though they shared their lack of 'moral compasses', or so empathetic people would state. A wasteful attribute.

"Now, for the final one," he said as he attempted to pull something out of the pocket of his coat. He could easily detect by the change of shape of her eyes that this visibly confused her. Whenever he was supposed to perform physical tests on her, it was usually just to measure height and weight and occasionally her blood. However, at the request of Jeraslovik himself, this time it would have a different alternative. He had to be sure of one thing, the one thing Jeraslovik was willing to figure out for himself, had he been present. Unfortunately, the latter was currently occupied with other matters and could not be there to witness what List was about to do.

From out of his pocket, he pulled out a gun and aimed it straight at her head. At the sight of this, she became vividly shocked, and the flicker of blue in her eyes confirmed that had he not opened his mouth to mutter out the motives behind this suddenness, she would've undoubtedly attacked him, or worse, killed him in the ways she knew Jeraslovik would see it fit for her to annihilate her opponents. The trait of ruthlessness that had been imprinted into her head since Jeraslovik witnessed the ounce of humanity nearly three years ago when she hesitated to finish Miss Maximoff off.

"This is an order from your father," List said, proud of himself for being able to stay as calm as he was. Truth be told, he had been exposed to his share of troublesome ordeals when working for Hydra, some less pleasant than others, but that was never enough to render him fearful for his life. Only when he was exposed to true adversary did he know that it would be appropriate to act accordingly. But he knew that at the mention of her father's name, her quiet hostility faltered and the blue in her eyes vanished back to their natural colors. He smiled weakly at the sight of this as his thumb wrapped around the trigger. The gun was aimed directly at her head, one of the few places which would instantly kill her, but she didn't move.

He smiled. "He wishes to know whether or not you're capable of beating death, to see if you truly are worthy of his affections."

As expected, she said nothing, but there was a flicker in her features which told him that she accepted this without reluctance. If it all was to please her father, to ensure him that she would never again dare to fail him, then it was appropriate to say that it would eventually be the end of her. Her family would be the end of her, whatever remained of that. Then again, without Jeraslovik by her side, it would mean nothing. She would mean nothing. Of course she would oblige to this as long as it meant that she was of use to them. To him. Hydra couldn't depend on Jeraslovik's other beast to follow their orders. She was their best shot. Other than that, the twins would serve as substitutes, but only when they knew that she was expendable and of no further use.

With a single nod, List pulled the trigger.

For such a big room, it surprised him how loud the echo resonated throughout. Smoke erupted from the muzzle of the gun and there was the splatter of blood in front of him just before the girl fell limp dead to the floor. List looked at himself to see faint spots of the same red blood on his coat before he looked down at her again, watching the blood begin to gather around her body, soaking her porcelain-like, scarred, pale skin and darkening the tips of her hair. Her face was facing down on the floor and absolutely gone from sight.

For such a grotesque sight, List was less than interested. He waited for a couple of seconds before he bent down and placed a finger on her neck, searching for a pulse or some kind of sign for life. He found none of the sorts. He let out a sigh and regained his stance again, already debating what kind of explanation to provide Jeraslovik with once he knew that his precious test subject couldn't even withstand a single bullet, when there was a sudden gasp.

His head snapped around to search for the source of the sound and ultimately landed on the girl on the floor. His eyes grew wide as he watched her exploit her arms to steady her up. Her body was trembling, shaking with a sense of dread she had never experienced yet but somehow seemed far more endurable than any similar experiences she had had in her life. The front of her body, save for her face, was concealed behind the thick layer of her own blood, and the substance dripped down from her face as she got to her feet, still as unsteady as always. Her eyes vividly around the room for him as if she had expected him to have run away, but they landed on the doctor as soon as they opened up.

It was a grotesquely beautiful sight to witness her own blood drip down from her as if she had just committed a mass genocide. Like a child having just escaped her mother's womb, Still, there was no visible wound on her forehead where he had watched the bullet penetrate through.

He had killed her, and she had stood up again.

The test was successful.

Grinning to himself with a morbid fascination, List grabbed the discarded clothes on top of the chair next to him and handed them to her, more gently than he usually ought to treat her. For once in the last couple of days, he felt like he had finally accomplished something. They had hardly grazed the surface of the scepter's powers when the Twins had been handed their special abilities, but this proved just how far Hydra had managed to get. Jeraslovik would no doubt be gratified to hear of these news, as would Strucker himself. Further tests were in need, but that would come later.

She was breathing heavily by the time she grabbed her clothes, almost out of reality of some sorts. It had been some time since List last saw her in such a state like this, panicked and afraid, but he doubted that dying ever came with a warning.

"Your father will be proud."

She said nothing.

* * *

In her cell, once again, she waited. With her back against the cold wall behind her, she waited. With her thoughts, once again, blurred by everything she had been exposed to, she waited. Wait and wait and wait for what felt like hours and hours on end, but she didn't have a clock to verify whether or not that statement was true. She hardly knew what time was, and whatever it was, it sure held no meaning within Hydra's confinement.

For those of us who do know what hours are, six of them had passed since she died, since she came back from the black abyss which temporarily claimed her for itself. It may have seemed like a long time ago, or perhaps just a few seconds, depending on whose perspective we're looking from. Ours or hers? Of course, nothing matters from her perspective. Nothing at all. She meant nothing. Six hours since she had been left there, six hours since she last had any human contact. Of course, she had endured a lot more behind closed doors, more than anyone, man or woman, child or adult, should have to walk through, but that didn't matter at all.

Still, her mind continued flicking back to that recollection of darkness, the empty, hollow void which claimed her for a split moment before whatever life she had decided to take back their merchandise. A merchandise that's not quite expendable yet by the looks of it. She kept her limp knees up to her chest, providing her with whatever warmth her clothes are unable to, and sighed into them. Silence and solitude wasn't uncommon for her to experience, but for some reason, it seemed more unbearable now that ever before, but not out of the silence and solitude alone. The aftermath of them.

Consciously, she reached up to graze the skin on her forehead. It lacked what the rest of her body did. A scar. It was almost ironic, whatever that meant. The one thing that was supposed to kill her didn't even leave a trace of its presence. Slowly, she pulled her hand away and placed it back down beside her, letting it touch the icy surface beneath her instead. It felt consoling. Since the bullet pierced her skull, she felt a little less alive than she usually did. Whether or not it would serve to become beneficial in the future during other procedures, she didn't know. Nobody could.

The doors opened, and in strolled her father accompanied by Dr. List and the Baron, looking thrice as proud as he usually did. She dared to look up at him just a tiny hint of scrutiny on her countenance, hardly enough to earn herself his sharp look in return. With a lack of warning and the missing component of a genuine embrace, her father did just that, bending down to her level on the floor and wrapping his arms tight around her thin frame, pulling her up to her feet in the process. So far, it the nicest way of keeping her standing upright if she wished to stay on his good side.

"Is it true what I've heard, dear?" he asked her as he pulled away, almost daring her to reply with a 'no' or an answer which would collide with Dr. List's claims.

Uncertain of how to verbalize her answer, she could only nod once at his inquiry.

Jeraslovik, once again, grinned.

"I can verify that myself," said Dr. List as if intending on making himself seem more like a significant reason as to why this was uncovered, just because he was the one who pulled the trigger at her. Though Jeraslovik was grateful for what his earlier mentor had done, both to her and himself in the past, he was no longer dependant on his guidance through Hydra anymore. Anything which the doctor could do, he could do himself, if not a little better. Seventeen years did something to someone like himself in the most productive ways imaginable, if only they put their mind into it. List continued. "The bullet pierced through her cranium, I saw it myself."

"I wish to see it in person, doctor." Though his pride wouldn't allow it, Jeraslovik didn't let his sharpness leave his voice subtle. Wrapping his arms around his precious daughter again, he hugged her tightly and didn't intend on letting go anytime soon. At first, she didn't think much of it and merely enjoyed the warmth of his affections. However, his hold began to tighten around her chest, forcing the air out of her. Her insides began to burn and saliva dripped down from her mouth. Desperate groans escaped her at the acknowledgment that she was being suffocated, and she mustered the strength to look up at her father.

He was smiling.

There was a quick _snap,_ and Wilhelm twisted his own daughter's neck around, efficiently rendering her entire body immobile and very much dead. He dropped her to the floor and began to wait.

"Was that necessary?" asked the Baron without much care unless it would cost him tedious work.

"I have to see for myself," answered Jeraslovik without looking away from his daughter's body. Even in death, she was still as beautiful as she had ever been.

Only a moment passed when a gasp suddenly echoed through the cell, and as if nothing had happened at all, her neck was as it was supposed to be and she got up on her feet, staggering. Heavy breaths came from her and she dried the saliva from her mouth. Her eyes were wide and placid, and none of them were placed upon the face of her initial murderer.

Jeraslovik had to compose his wish to kill her once again, but not out of resentment.

"My child," he said and placed a solid hand on her shoulder, close to the spot where her neck had once been bent. "I'm so proud of you."

* * *

Wanda had always stood her brother close, ever since they were born, even in the womb. It went as far back as it could. Only twelve minutes separated them from being a whole, but it didn't matter. For Pietro, Wanda was willing to do anything to keep him safe, whether or not it involved hurting others or hurting herself. Some might've called it foolishness and stupidity beyond what men once considered to be the limit, but she knew better than to let anything prevent her from keeping the people she loved safe.

Then, what about people she neither loved nor personally knew? That was the million-dollar question. Was she willing to hurt others or herself in order to keep them from being harmed, even though that said person had attacked her in the past and almost killed her and her brother? Now that seemed like foolishness, yet a piece of her knew that if there was even a single chance for that girl to be saved, she would take it. That man, Dr. Jeraslovik, Dr. List's earlier protege, the girl's _father_ , if she could even call a monster like him that. What he had tried to do to her... She was revolted beyond what men considered to be the limit.

It was late in the evening, almost at the brink of midnight, but she found herself unable to render to sleep. Her brother, in the other bed at the opposite side of the room, was snoring considerably loud like he didn't have a care in the world, on the contrary of herself, who had been burdened with that ever since she first gained her abilities. It now seemed like her mind was constantly awake 24/7, and it was both a blessing and a curse to be the only one in the entire facility who could do what she could.

Well, except one other.

Sometimes she began to wonder what went on inside the girl's mind if she allowed such dreadful, monstrous things to happen to her. She was just a child, barely older than what Wanda and Pietro were when they first volunteered for Strucker's experiments, but like Pietro said, that was on their own account. They wished to end the Sokovian revolutions, drive out - and eventually kill - Tony Stark, and as of lately, end the Avengers as well. They didn't want to harm anyone else unless they needed to. They were not monsters.

Then again, they had worked together with monsters, aided monsters reach their goals, joined monsters. The line was a severely thin one, barely visible, but it was there, and they were on the brink of crossing it. But they had the choice to, Dr. List had told them that if they ever wished to quit the initiative, they wouldn't be stopped. He was known for being a deceptive liar and Wanda knew better than to take his words for it, but with Pietro being fast and with her being... Weird, they stood advantageously above them. They could easily leave if they wished to.

But what about the girl?

Wanda felt her fingers unconsciously grip around the sheets beneath her, turning them white from the pressure she put on them. There was an oddity residing within her, one which depended on her emotional state to resurface from the depths of her mind. However, they did not belong to her. These were on the behalf of the girl, the one who clearly was unable to depend on herself without her father. It had been almost three years since they last encountered each other head-on, and since then, it was easy to see that she had become everything from the once innocent girl she used to be. The one who hesitated to kill.

Innocent... Was she still innocent if she had let herself become one of the monsters? Had that even been her choice to make?

 _"My life ... Is mine?"_

She had asked her that question with genuine curiosity, no hint of malice or mocking in any way. Who else would it belong to?

The name of Jeraslovik instantly entered her mind, causing her to grit her teeth at the sight of that sick image. One of the bricks on the floor in front of her suddenly sprang up to life with the aid of a pair of crimson lines and went crashing into the wall, crushed into debris at the impact. Pietro suddenly bolted up from his sleep, hurriedly rushing over to her side of the cell as if on instinct, which, frankly, it was. His hands were placed on both of her shoulders and he shook her with concern. "What happened?" he asked, checking her for any injuries.

She waved him off dismissively and shook her head. "Nothing, Pietro," she assured him. "I just accidentally threw that brick into the wall," She gestured to the now-broken pieces on the floor, and he turned to look at them with something less than interest in his eyes.

"You have to be careful," he chided her and ruffled her hair playfully, just like he used to when they were children, and still used to in the present. "Anyway," he pulled away from her and his expression became stern again. "What has you so angered that you find the need to throw things into the wall?"

She hesitated. "I was just thinking."

"On... " he drew slowly.

She sighed longingly. "The girl."

At the mention of this, Pietro let out an exasperated breath and covered his own face with his hand. "This again?"

"She's in pain."

"So are we,"

"But not like that," she countered fiercely, arguing with her brother for the first time in a long one. "We still have the choice to leave. What if she doesn't?"

"What if?"

"..."

That quickly ended the conversation and Pietro went to bed again, leaving Wanda once again alone with her thoughts.

"What if?"

* * *

In the end, the doctors called in for the evening and she was left alone. Her father bid her a rather mourning goodbye before he too went to catch up on some well-needed rest. He hadn't been able to gain that for the last twenty-six hours, and with good reasons too. Ever since they figured out his precious creation could cheat death, they had tested every method imaginable to see whether or not these claims were true. It was horrific, a lot of the cell they exploited had been covered in blood. Her blood. The floor, the walls, even parts of the ceiling were shrouded in the depths of the crimson liquid.

The dissection table in the room, the one they usually had whenever they tested her healing factors to see what limit they were at, was too nothing more than a table of red by the end of the day. This test went even further than the ones before it, as Jeraslovik had ordered the doctors in the room to purposefully inflict as many non-fatal cuts into her body as possible without rendering her dead. She hadn't screamed at any of this inflictions, seeing it as none of them lasted long enough to cause her any significant pain. The sting was occasionally there, but not to the degree where she could sense it.

It wasn't until Jeraslovik commanded one of them to slice over her throat from left to right that death finally submerged and took her life again. But, like last time, only temporarily. By the time she woke up again, all of her injuries had been healed back to their original state and there lingered not a single mark on her which indicated that she had been abused in any way. However, there was an increase of visible scars on her which said otherwise. Had anyone from the outside world seen her in such a miserable state, the authorities would have undoubtedly grasped the situation.

Then again, if anyone from the outside world ever saw her, they'd be dead.

Each test she was subjected to always lead to the same result - Her death. That was the sole purpose of these inflictions. Jeraslovik wished to witness what kind of marvelous things his little doll was capable of producing on her own, hence why they always killed her. Nothing was excluded from their fantasies, neither his own, Strucker's, or Dr. List's. They did whatever they saw fit to see progress in their investments. They had focused almost solely on her for the past seventeen years. They needed to be sure that every ounce of effort they had put into her was not in vain.

Like said, they killed her. Over and over and over again. Drowning: She survived. Bullets through every vital of her body: She survived. Poisonous injections: She survived. Cutting her open: She survived. Nothing succeeded in finishing her off, just as Jeraslovik predicted. She couldn't be killed. She was invincible, his own daughter.

"Like always, you never cease to impress me." Even Strucker could admit this progress with pride when they entered Jeraslovik's office. It was a moderately well-suited office for a moderately well-suited man like himself. Several diplomats from the Sokovian university were lined up against the walls, displaying the said man's achievements throughout his life, including the title of a doctor of the highest degree and that of a scientist. However, those were it. There were no pictures indicating that he had a life outside of the facility, nor any family. Neither did he have a cup which said _#1 Dad_. Ironic, wasn't it?

Jeraslovik sat down on the chair behind the desk in the room and sighed delightedly to himself. "Have I ever disappointed you, Wolfgang?"

"That remains to be seen, Wilhelm." His arrogant tone would require some sharpening. "Though I have received some rather unsettling news from the facility in Siberia."

Jeraslovik quirked up, but with a hint of annoyance in his features. "Tell me, do you only bring forth ill news of our associates, now that we've accomplished so much."

"I have two messages," Strucker ignored the remark. "One of them regards to me, the other one regards your _other_ _one_."

Surprisingly, it didn't seem like Strucker's companion thought much of this. He barely even raised his head to meet his eyes, but the gesture of curiosity was there nonetheless. "Care to elaborate?"

"To which one?"

"Whichever suits you best." He waved his hand dismissively, not really caring very much about either of them. All his mind was focused on was what to perform next on his creation, his _first_ _one_. He couldn't really care any less about anything else.

Strucker took his nonchalance as an answer. "The Winter Soldier has expressed recollection of past events in his life, his life as James Buchanan Barnes."

"And?"

"And," Strucker continued, fidgeting with his hands in manners which would have been considered ice-cold. "If it continues like this, we may have problems keeping him where he's required."

Jeraslovik still displayed no concern whatsoever. Alexander Pierce's puppet was finally slipping from its strings, becoming independent from its earlier puppeteers. It was expected. Had Pierce only followed his own example, he wouldn't have needed to afford those problems on his own. If he had only made himself the 'core' of the Winter Soldier, made it depend on him for support like an obedient dog, things would've had a different outcome. His own achievements were just the proof of that. No problems. "And this concerns me why?"

Strucker's eyes narrowed at the tone of his speech in a way which would've usually resulted in a subordinates punishment had it been under different circumstances. Instead, he decided to be merciful and continue. "Think of it. A loose weapon capable of killing dozens without as much as batting an eye."

"We're secured here, if that was the case," As always, Jeraslovik didn't worry. "He's no threat to us."

"And that leads us to the other news, the ones which concern _you_ in person."

"Yes?" For the first time since they entered the office, Jeraslovik displayed genuine interest in the subject at hand.

Strucker said nothing out of what the news included. "The other one showed signs of neural activity, and he's _still_ in cryostasis."

"Has he woken up or made any sign that he's aware of his current state?" asked Jeraslovik with a thoughtful expression.

Strucker shook his head. "No, but considering our last incident, the doctors won't risk waking him up."

"I didn't think you would." Composed as always, Jeraslovik didn't move an inch from his spot. He barely seemed affected at all by the news. However, after a minute of not moving, he sat straight up in his chair and leaned back, sighing as he did so. "I think I should share something with you, Wolfgang, about _him_."

Strucker inclined his head. "Something you haven't elaborated with me yet?"

"After my daughter displayed reluctance in doing what she was told, disobedience in fulfilling her purpose for Hydra," he explained without looking straight at him, his knuckles cracked together with a pressure of frustration. "I wasn't initially sure what to do if she failed. I was desperate. Thus I picked a young orphan from the streets in an effort to find a second option in case she became a failure. His parents were killed during one of the riots in the city, so he was practically the perfect candidate. I easily managed to convince him to join Hydra's cause, telling him that we would avenge his family. He was too easy to prey on."

"Who is he?" Strucker asked, inclined to do so after everything he had been told, whether it was relevant to his knowledge or otherwise.

"A nobody," Jeraslovik stated simply. "Someone who won't be missed by anyone, dead or alive. Since I was desperate and wanted to grasp anything I could to ensure that our objective was reached, I exposed the boy to the scepter's force. However, while I exposed my own daughter to it deliberately bit by bit, I provided it all to the boy at once."

"And he survived, I take it?"

"In a way, yes. He was determined to so. He believed that I was his father, so he wanted to please me. However, his mind wasn't lucky enough to accompany him. He became mentally disturbed from the pain, killing anyone in sight like I had ordered him to in order to avenge his family. In the end, not even I could control him. He had to be transported somewhere where he wasn't subjectable to being located by anyone and anything. Killing became the only thing he could do because that was the last thing I ordered him to do before the exposure to the scepter." When he explained this, Jeraslovik had unconsciously tightened his fingers into the flesh of his palm, drawing blood.

"So that's what is he?" Strucker seemed less than fascinated by this information on the exterior, but on the interior, an ounce of him suddenly felt threatened by what this man was truly capable of. He hadn't personally had anything with Jeraslovik to do when it came to his experiments with the exception of his daughter, but upon hearing this, he now understood that the man before him was an even greater threat than his creations. He would have to be dealt with in one way or the other, and he would personally ensure that he would no longer gain access to the Scepter.

Jeraslovik, unable to read his thoughts and read the Baron's interior motives, said nothing at first. Then, he answered. "He's an uncontrollable beast."

"One who doesn't know any boundaries." Strucker finished, having heard those words before. "And what would occur if he was somehow freed from his captivity?"

At this, Jeraslovik visibly trembled and cold sweat ran down his forehead. "I ... Don't know, but whatever it is," His eyes met Strucker's, and for the first time since they met, he spotted fear in the eyes of the ruthless doctor. "It's not going to be clean after his visit."

"Is he as strong as your _doll_?" he asked.

"Worse."


	6. Chapter 6: A Change Of Events

**Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers**

 **Warning: Avengers AU**

* * *

 **Chapter 6: A Change of Events**

* * *

 _"Will you go to the left where there's nothing right, or to the right where there's nothing left?"_

 _\- Anonymous_

* * *

She had been awoken by an unfamiliar scent which was making it's way to her nostrils, forcing her to breathe it in with no regard for her own consent. Not that it mattered either way. Her eyelids fluttered open little by little, greeting her with the sight of brightness personified and ensuring that she would not succumb to unconsciousness again, like the two times she had before. The memories were vivid, almost impossible to recollect, but they were there. She sat up on where she was positioned, which turned out to be a bed similar to the one she had back at the facility. However, there was a distinctive difference between this one and the one which previously belonged to her. This one was... Softer.

As soon as she got up and her eyes adjusted themselves to the brightness, her eyes fell upon an unrecognizable scenery which completely shook her off. It took her but a split second to grasp the fact that she was no longer back where she was supposed to be. She was no longer _home_.

The room of which she had been confined to granted her a view that she had never seen before, just outside of a pair of windows that usually revealed her nothing more than men observing her every move during training, watching her like a predator did with its prey. The windows of this room withheld no men or people behind them, but the view of large buildings, perhaps the largest things she had ever seen. There was something mesmerizing about the sight, as she had never truly seen the outside world in the past. This was the first time she had been exposed to something so ... Alien.

But rather than allowing her senses to become captivated by the inexplicable view, she understood that if this was no longer her home, she would have to figure out where she was in one way or the other. She threw the blanket that had been covering her off her body and prepared to swing both of her legs over the edge of the bed in an effort to get out of there and find an exit. She was alone in the room, so escaping unnoticed didn't seem like such an ordeal like the ones she had earlier endured.

However, just as she raised her arms, there was the faintest sting in both of them simultaneously, causing her to wince at the sensation. Looking down at her arms to where the unknown source came from, she found tubes attached to her skin, drawing what looked like some sort of liquid into her system. Though the feeling wasn't an uncommon one, seeing it as she had been attached to similar vires in the past, but she had no intentions of letting them remain onto her.

Without hesitating, she grabbed all of the wires attached to her right arm first, yanking them out of her skin with no regard for all the ache it would inflict upon her. The lingering feeling of pain made its way towards her and resulted in her hesitating for a split second before she curtly proceeded to follow the same pattern with the other. The pain was momentarily, and all of the bleeding cuts she received from pulling the needles out of her were sewn shut in a matter of microseconds. The wires hung loosely from a bag hanging over the bed, containing the same liquid that had forced its way into her.

 _'Your pain is trivial.'_

Before she could head for the exit of a room, a large door which seemed to stand dominating over every other object in the room, which frankly wasn't much, there came a sudden knock from the other side. Her body stiffened and she quickly threw her legs down to the floor, but a shrieking pain in both of her legs rendered in agony and caused her to crash down to the ground, face first into the cold, solid floor. It had been some time since she thought pain was an inconvenience since it was the only thing marking her progress, but this seemed just ridiculous. Just as she got up to her feet, shaking tremendously and having to use the bed rails for support, the door suddenly opened and a man entered.

The first thing she noticed about him was his hair, a yellow color with a lighter pitch to it than she recalled seeing before, but less to the extent that he was able to match the brother of the Red woman. The rest of him looked just like any other soldier did: well-defined muscles, average if not slightly different height in contrast to those men she had seen before, blue eyes... Those eyes reminded her of something, but not for the same reason as before. These eyes were obviously different, less defined than the ones belonging to John Smith, but significantly similar.

The man met her eyes and whilst she was wary of his presence, he seemed quite the opposite.

He was ... _Smiling_.

"You're awake," He closed the door behind him and started approaching her, but for each step he took, she took one in retreat until she was firmly pressed against the wall behind her. The man seemed to notice her behavior and instantly stopped and the smile disappeared, but not entirely. "I understand," he held his hands up as a sign of benevolence. "But I'm not going to hurt you." His words were slow but comprehensible like he was purposefully speaking like that in order to gain her trust. Needless to say, his attempts were in vain.

As quickly as she could, she threw her arms off the bed rails and made a beeline towards the exit, ignoring the complaints from her legs. However, she was hardly able to reach the door before she felt her head becoming dizzy and she stopped. Her breathing became heavy and the noises she heard from around her began to grow distant. Her heartbeat increased and she fell to her knees, defenseless and weak.

"Hey, kid!"

The man's words were hardly audible as she held her forehead in her hand, struggling to regain her thoughts. Why was she becoming like this? This had never happened before, not like this. Was this some kind of effect from the drugs they had forced into her? Rendering her a weak prey for their schemes? As she felt a hand on her shoulder, she instantaneously flinched and turned around to push him away, discovering him kneeling down beside her with a worried expression on his face. Despite ever instinct of her telling him to get as far away from him as possible, she met his eyes. Blue and filled with concern, so much like how the Red woman's eyes were before.

The voice inside her head got the better of her senses and, without warning, she pushed his hand off her and quickly placed one of her hands on his head. If she wasn't strong enough yet to make a direct attack, she would have to exploit other methods.

"What are yo-" He was unable to finish his sentence as she dug into his mind, cyan lines illuminating from her hands along with her eyes, scraping the corners of his brain like a scalpel. If this man was here before she woke up, one of the enemies that had brought her, she was in desperate need for answers. Even so, her own head began to hurt from all the pressure she was putting on herself, but nothing she had not experienced before. She needed answers. and she would see them from his perspective. His memories. Memories ceased to lie to her.

Still, what had her confused was the similarities between each of the recollections of his life, which seemed unimaginably long in comparison to most others. His most recent ones weren't easily distinguished from the others from his past. They all seemed like the same: war, blood, associations with others, _friends_ , loss. She could vaguely experience the pain he had felt when those occurrences happened, all the joy, all the sadness, one more so than the others as she watched the scene of a brown-haired man, one of familiar yet vague features, let go of the man whose memories she was evading's hand and drop down from an unimaginable height, disappearing into the distance.

 _ **"Bucky!"**_

That one seemed to have affected him more so than anything else. It was always a consequence of entering the minds of others, feeling what they felt. _Empathy_.

Before she knew it, a blazing light hit her straight in the face, forcing her eyes to temporarily shut in an effort to shield themselves. She held her arm up and covered them both, hearing applause and numerous of voices from every angle around her. Some belonging to young people, _children_ , others belonging to both men and women, few of which appeared to be displeased with what they were presented with. She lowered her arm, allowing the lights to continue to plague her, before her eyes adjusted to the lights and she got a hold of what was happening and where she was.

She was standing on a stage, right in the center of everyone and everything's focus, making herself the perfect target of their attention. Confused but nonetheless intrigued, this particular memory seemed to take place during the early forties, an age her father had told her played a major part in Hydra's history for some reason she had not been told of.

As she turned around, ignoring all the pair of eyes on her, she spotted multiple women surrounding her, all of which were dressed in bright colors and rather revealing clothes, making it seem as if they were desperate for the attention sh— _he_ was receiving at the moment. This man must have been popular back in the days, but unless this memory provided her with valuable intel on her current situation, she would have to dig deeper.

Still, it was the colors and the flags displayed around the stage that caught her attention. For a fact, she had been lectured about different countries in the world by some of her father's associates, as well as learning their languages with relative ease. She was a quick learner, and had a rather extended period of reminiscence, meaning that she was more than often capable of recalling certain figures or objects from the past in the present.

However, that attribute would most likely not have been achieved had it not been for the powers her father had granted her. If not for that, her life would have been deemed expendable, and, not wanting to disappoint him, she forced herself to prove herself efficient and valuable enough to be taught. It was easier that easy, but this language was easily recognized as the one everyone spoke. English. The flag was also identifiable. American.

An American man from the nineteen-forties that looked like he had just been born thirty years prior to the present date. This man was undoubtedly someone significant, both then and now. Of whatever importance he was, it could maybe contribute to her figuring out the answers she needed, and most importantly, if he was worth killing just yet. It wasn't until the name of _Captain America_ was brought up as the women started dancing and singing, smiling widely with confidence filling their easily-breakable bodies, that she understood more about the situation.

 _"Who's making Adolph afraid to step out of his box?_

 _He knows what we're fighting for!_

 _Who waked the giant that napped in America?_

 _We know it's no-one but **Captain America** ,"_

This was one of Hydra's most loathed enemies, one of the worst. She had heard his name before, spoken like an insult back at the facility. But before she could gather any more info, she felt a sudden pull at her hair and the scenery disappeared like dust in the air in front of her. She was yanked back from the man whose memories she had just evaded and was thrown into the wall back at the room she had woken up in.

She gasped as the air was knocked out of her lungs, eyes blinking rapidly just as she felt herself collapsing to the floor, not properly capable of processing what had just happened before there was another pull on her body, this time by something much stronger than just an ordinary grip on her arm. The surface beneath the fingers of whoever had grabbed her was cold and artificial, she was unable to sense any kind of pulse beneath it. Her left arm was forced up, as was she until she hung like a loose thread over the floor.

"Tony, don't!" Captain America's voice was all it took to snap her back into focus, and by the time she did, she could spot the faintest twitch beneath the man's eye, the one with the inhuman grip around her. Yes, the man made of metal. So, this was Anthony Stark? She recalled his name just as she recalled Captain Steven Rogers', and memories flooded through her as she understood that they both were affiliated with the sworn enemies of Hydra. The sworn enemies of her father. _The Avengers._

No sense of dread was present as she watched Stark slowly lower her down without letting go of her, but that was because she knew she had the upper hand. With one push, she forced herself out of the man's metal grip, effectively knocking him back a few feet, before she proceeded to throw her open right palm to him. The glower of cyan replaced the natural blue of her eyes and she felt the warmth of her powers rise within her chest, surrounding her in an aura of the identical color. The man with the metal hand watched her in both awe and shock, an amalgamation of both positivity and negativity, and opened his mouth to yell something. But she wouldn't permit him before she wrapped the colors around his form, completely paralyzing him in his stance.

She deliberately put force around the man's unarmed throat, squeezing what little air he had out of his lungs, letting nothing enter or exit. It was only a matter of seconds before his face grew red with the lack of oxygen, forcing him to soundlessly gasp. The captain got up to his feet to interfere, but without moving an inch of her body, she entangled him in a very much similar way like she had with Stark, making sure to keep both men apart and immobile.

It would be easy to finish them off, as easy as snapping their necks and be done with the ordeal she had been trapped in for an unknown amount of time, but there was a sudden throb in her chest. A painful one at that. Usually, signs like those were trivial to her, seeing it as unless it rendered her unconscious, it was of no significant meaning. However, this one was actually _painful_. Her breathing became shallow and the throb's infliction on her internal system caused the rest of her senses to falter, including those of her powers.

The cyan colors in her eyes and around her foes disappeared in seconds, both of them falling to the ground as a result. The captain quickly got up to his feet, having not been held at such a fatal point as Stark, but her attention was not directed at him at the moment. The throbbing continued nonstop, causing all sorts of sensation to scourge through her body. Her eyes were twitching uncontrollably, her hands were trembling like they had been kept under cold temperature for too long, even though she felt hotter now than anywhere else, and her breathing started to pitch up, each breath becoming shorter and shorter than its predecessor.

Not long after, she lost control of her bowels, unknowingly allowing liquid to exit from beneath her abdomen, soaking the floor around her in darkened urine that hardly looked like what it should've.

Rather than feeling alarmed, the captain was actually feeling concerned for her well-being for a moment. The thought didn't strike him at first, but looking at her like that, it brought him memories of how his mother looked like before her ultimate demise at the hands of tuberculosis. Granted, this girl wasn't the same, they had collected her from Hydra's facility in Sokovia, but the look of pure terror in her eyes as she watched her own body losing control of itself in all possible ways was very much like the look his mother had in her eyes few months before she passed away. The girl's eyes were streaming with tears, rolling down her cheeks to the floor like river falls, when they suddenly became lifeless. She fell limp to the floor, successfully avoiding hitting the spot where the urine was, and stayed like that. Unconscious.

Steve ran towards Tony, who was having a hard time regaining his breathing, rubbing his neck from side to side with an ached expression in his eyes. His eyes were wide and reddened, as well as his face, and it took a couple of seconds before the proper color in his face returned. "Tony!" Steve's call managed to snap him out of the temporary shock of what had just happened and the captain grabbed his unarmed hand and assisted him in getting up. "Are you alright?"

"I've lost count of how many people have grabbed me by the neck," Tony couldn't help but be sarcastic at the given moment, even after his life had just been threatened _again_. After regaining his equanimity and much of his breathing, he pulled out his cellphone and started dialing a number, ignoring how weak he felt from the ambush. "Gotta inform Fury," he said and cast a brief look at the unconscious girl, wincing at the sight of the piss for a second before regaining his composure again. "She's an enhanced one, but we didn't find any files regarding her. Think they deleted it?"

Just as he said this, Steve walked over to the bed, grabbed the sheet the girl had previously had, bent down to her on the floor and carefully wrapped it around her, making sure to get as little urine on as possibly. After successfully doing so, he lifted her up and held her gently into his chest.

"Whatever they did, we need to find out who she is." Steve was always a man of heart, but this was much even for him in Tony's opinion.

He gestured to her rather exaggeratedly. "More importantly, how dangerous she is."

"She's a kid, Tony." Steve retaliated.

"She's a weapon," Tony countered, voice rising. "Clearly one of Hydra's, too, at that. Who knows what kind of things they've stuffed into her head?"

Steve was about to retort back, but held his tongue and tried to understand Tony's way of thinking. In his own way, he was right, more so than he would admit himself aloud, but on the other hand, she was a child. If what Tony said was true, that she was one of Hydra's enhanced, then it meant that she had not been privileged to much kindness, let alone humanity.

She looked ordinary from the exterior perspective, but he knew better than most how physical wounds lasted the shortest on a person. Who knew what she would do when she woke up like this again? Had it not been for this abrupt... Change of situation, they would probably have both been dead by then.

He sighed in defeat. "Alright, what are we going to do with her?"

Tony didn't look up from his phone as he spoke. "I'm contacting Fury, telling him about the situation. Maybe he knows what we can do."

Steve didn't like it, not really, but looking down at the girl in his arms, sleeping like she hadn't it in years, he understood that they were running low of alternatives if it continued like this. "Maybe..."

* * *

 ** _Several Weeks Earlier_**

It all began with the echoes of commotion and war in the distance, easily making itself audible to those residing within the facility. That was all it took to send Strucker and his associates into wary modes, and with good reasons too. After seventeen years of searching, the Avengers were finally able to put all of the pieces together and locate the scepter they had so desperately been looking for. What happened that day was almost anticipated. Their soldiers were lining up one after the other, entering the forest in an attempt to fend the attack off long enough to grant them a chance at escaping with all of their weapons and technology, including the scepter.

One would imagine that seventeen years would provide Hydra with more than enough time to advance their weapons and further enhance their advantages. However, that wasn't entirely the case. The scepter had been their primary source of power over the last years, that in itself was true, but the production of weapons and enhanced weapons wasn't as great as most would imagine it. Weapons had been produced and sent to each and every facility which would require them, but they had never been exceptionally great in quantity. Not as great as they would have it.

There was only one primary source for that outcome. That was Wilhelm Jeraslovik himself. With all of his attention focused on his own creations than that of mutual benefit to all of Hydra, he had unknowingly prolonged all of the weapon productions and caused them more disadvantages than otherwise. Strucker was less than pleased with this change of events, as he had never seen to it that the Avengers would be so quick as to locate them.

After all, seventeen years was a long lifespan, long enough to produce a weapon of mass destruction. Not to mention, he did not fret. He always had plans up his sleeves when times became desperate.

However, he would try to see if plan number one would succeed, to keep his own soldiers at the front. But it was one that he soon realized had been initiated without his personal consent. Those were his first thoughts when he entered the preparation room where numerous of his subordinates were preparing for the upcoming battle, one which they were certain to lose if they kept up with their impulsive acts of direct attacks. They had to be subtle, but apparently, that was a trait which few of the soldiers seemed to possess.

"Who gave the order to attack?" That was the first thing he asked the closest man about once he exited the stairs and entered the room. One of the men in his presence, looking quite young and benevolent for a soldier, was about to answer the inquiry, but another voice caught him up to it instead.

" _I_ did." Strucker's eyes narrowed as Jeraslovik entered his presence, looking more frustrated than he had ever seen the man before. His companion, on the other hand, paid no notice to his obvious lack of consensual regard and continued with explaining his reason for doing so. "They're close to the base, but Stark himself seems to catch up on the fact that the only thing keeping us apart is the force field surrounding the facility." Had it not been for the dire circumstances, Strucker would have berated the man for his disobedience. But upon being told the current state on the battlefield in the woods by one of the officers, he decided to keep his tongue. For now.

He turned to both of the doctors and revealed the opposing forces' obvious motivation for infiltrating the one base in Sokovia out of the numerous others in the world. "They have to be after the scepter." Neither of the doctors wished to look him directly in the eyes unless they had something to say otherwise, and Strucker turned around in an attempt to search for a different alternative than the ones which were placed in front of him. Abandon everything. "Can we hold them?" He barely allowed the same young man answer before he walked past him, to which the said soldier exclaimed rather melodramatically in disbelief.

"They're the _Avengers_!"

Jeraslovik's eyes instantly went wide upon recalling the mutual name which belonged to the ones who had initially been the ones to possess the scepter, and he frowned with gritted teeth hidden beneath his lips. In a way, he supposed he wished to thank them. Without their intervention, Hydra would never have gained the scepter to begin with, then his daughter would surely never have been born. However, on another matter, if they retrieved the scepter back then all of his plans would fall into debris. He couldn't allow that, not when they had achieved so much.

"Deploy the rest of the tanks!" Strucker ordered everyone in the room and tried to take the most advantages of the situation, including defeating those of the Avengers which were the most subjectable to fatal attacks. "Concentrate fire on the weak ones. A hit may make them close ranks."

On another matter, he had to start debating with his most trusted men about what to do next, including what they would do with the few accomplishments they had managed to hold onto. "Everything we've accomplished, but we're on the verge of our greatest breakthrough." It wasn't hard to figure out what he intended on doing, and for once, Jeraslovik agreed. His eyes fell on the twins in the background, both who were looking severely anxious about the change of events.

They were still nothing but _children_.

"Then let's show them what we've accomplished," said Dr. List and turned to follow his gaze, landing on the twins as well. "Send out the twins."

Strucker didn't agree. "It's too soon."

Jeraslovik cast a dark look to where the twins were standing, not very motivated to depend on them for protection. He had never favored them above his own creation and he found both Strucker's and List's confidence in them to be obnoxious, if not a bit impulsive.

"It's been seventeen years. They're not children anymore. Besides, it's what they signed up for." Dr. List countered, but then suddenly shrugged his shoulders with a hint of nonchalance, his eyes met those of his earlier protege. "If not, we could always exploit your own creation, Wilhelm. I think she's tired of being locked up in here, don't you think?" Though the doctor was one for humor, oddly enough, the reaction he received from the latter was far from what he didn't imagine would happen. Jeraslovik sent something of a glare in his direction, shaking his head defiantly.

"I will not risk losing her to them, she's not ready."

"I have to disagree on that," said the doctor with a shrug identical to that of the previous one. "Don't you think it's time for her to finally do what she was meant to?"

" _No_ ," Jeraslovik said firmly, feeling slightly tempted to beat his former mentor where he stood had it not been for the circumstances.

Strucker decided to break the childish quarrel off with an easy response. "My men can hold them."

* * *

The ground beneath her shook violently at the impact of everything which was occurring outside of the facility, yet she couldn't comprehend the situation like the soldiers did or the twins. To her, the outside world was entirely off-limited. She had never seen the sky, touched the sea, understood anything of that which was out of her range. However, she acknowledged danger when she sensed it, and in this case, it was the kind of danger she knew would pose an immediate threat unless it was dealt with. But she hadn't heard an order that stated that her presence was required, and thus she forced herself to succumb to the silence.

The last couple of months had worn heavily on her, more so than usual. Her body had added a number of more scars to its exterior, even her face looked unimaginable after the most recent procedures. Had it not been for her father ordering her to exploit an illusion on herself which would ensure that everyone who saw her would only see her like she used to look like those months ago, anyone who saw her face would have gasped revolting. She could almost imagine the crimson woman looking down at her with that wretched _empathy_ like she had so long ago. Useless.

Except for the resonating battle cries in the distance, the cell was relatively quiet. Her body was not clothed with what would be considered 'normal' clothes, but though it covered up more of her body than her first clothes ever did, it did little to shield her against the cold she had grown accustomed to over the years. Her father thought that she had finally earned the right to some privileges, though the list was still considerably short. As far as anyone could tell, only her increase of clothes had changed.

There was suddenly a violent boom echoing in the distance, one so loud that she felt the ground beneath her tremble to the point where it was only a matter of seconds before she fell on her rear. Fortunately, she was able to keep that from happening and held onto the edge of her bed for support. Now, this was the sign of something that wasn't supposed to be there. If there was a chance of her father being in danger, that whoever was attacking her home was threatening his safety, she would do well to keep that from happening.

All she had to do was wait for his command, and then hell would break loose from its containment.

* * *

"The Americans sent their circus freaks to test us," Strucker ordered to the remaining men in the room, keeping on the facade of the strictest figure at the head of the Sokovian facility everyone there knew him to be. No one knew what his true intentions were, or better yet, what he was planning on doing. All of their sacrifices would be in vain, but lives mattered little in his eyes unless they cost him tedious work. They did not. He rounded each and every soldier he could find there, eyeing them as if searching for signs of absolute loyalty and obedience, or signs of the opposite, disloyalty and disobedience. He found none of the latter.

He was forced to suppress a prideful grin. He now understood why Jeraslovik grinned so often when all that Hydra had ever accomplished was to be proud about. "We will send them back in bags." He turned around to face them all at once. "No surrender!"

 _"No surrender!"_ His men repeated and saluted their superior before they exited to go fight the fight which would surely result in their deaths. Just as they were about to leave, Strucker turned back to his most trusted subordinates with a rather defeated look in his eyes. "I am going to surrender," His comment was almost ironic considering what he had just stated to his soldiers, and neither List nor Jeraslovik seemed to take this abrupt change of plan with enthusiasm. The latter of the men the least. "Delete everything. If we give the Avengers the weapons, they may not look too far into what we've been-"

"No, that's not an option," As always, Jeraslovik became the first one to state his mind to his companions, much less composed than he usually ought to. His eyes were wide and twitching, but not out of any deprivation of sleep. No, he was _infuriated_.

For seventeen years he stood them loyal, rarely went against the orders he had been given and proved himself to be an asset to the organization. He had provided them with so much, enhanced their technology, aided them in creating the weapons they so desperately required. He had even given them his own child up for experimentations, one he expected to succeed.

Seventeen years were not suppose to go to waste like this.

 _NOT LIKE THIS!_

Rather than berating the man for his insolence, Strucker seemed rather amused, if not a little ominous where he stood. "Then, by all means, Wilhelm, what can you contribute to which will keep them from breaking through the shield and ensure us our weapons? They haven't penetrated through it yet. We still have some time." It almost felt like the Baron was daring him to come up with anything but the thing he kept locked up inside of the facility. It wasn't a subtle method of manipulation, but it was an efficient one.

Jeraslovik felt his knuckles turn white from the pressure he put on them and his facial features were now twitching more than ever before, yet he begrudgingly nodded. He had never exposed her to anything the rest of the facility, much less the outside world. She had grown up within these walls, been raised by various people and trained to become what she was. Still, he knew she would do anything to keep him safe as long as he asked for it. A thought suddenly entered his head, a devious one which tempted him to grin.

"Alright, maybe you're right, doctor," Jeraslovik said and inclined his head to List. "Maybe it's time to let her out of the cage?"

"The twins." The other doctor didn't have his focus on his former apprentice anymore, but the words he mumbled had him frown. Jeraslovik didn't enjoy being interrupted.

Strucker sighed. "They're not ready for-"

"No," The doctor gestured for them to look to where the twins had once been standing. They were gone. "The twins."

"Might as well get your own pet, Wilhelm," Strucker said faintly without looking away, and the said doctor obliged rather soundlessly and prepared to enter the center of the facility, a mischievous grin creeping over his lips.

* * *

No more than a few more minutes, the doors leading into the containment cell opened and her father entered, looking neither superior or sharp like he usually did whenever he entered her presence. His face was weary, heavy, looking older than he actually was, not that she knew his age. However, there was a smile on his face like always, but this one seemed a little more forced than usual, but it didn't lack any unruly attributes to it.

As soon as he started approaching her, she got up to her feet and stood there, waiting for any orders she knew he would give her. The second the distance between them grew into nothing more than a few feet, he looked down at her and said in a firm voice, "We're leaving this place." He meant what he said. For the first time in seventeen years, in practically her entire life, she would finally get to leave the facility and see what the outside world looked like, but not for long. They would relocate. Find another Hydra facility to reside in, start anew.

This place had been but a temporary residence, someplace where his skills would grant his royal advantages, but they weren't one of a kind. There were other places for them to escape to, and he had her to protect him. But they would not leave without the scepter.

At the mention of abandoning the only place in the world she had ever known, she said nothing and merely kept the eye-contact with him intact. She had been taught to never react in any negative way to her father's orders, even if she was curious. Besides, judging by the way he spoke and how unpredictable his countenance had become, it provided her with an answer as to what would happen if she dared to defy his wishes. Instead, she merely nodded and nothing but.

Content with this, Jeraslovik gestured for her to follow him as they exited the cell and headed out towards the corridors.

Like the obedient child she was, she followed close behind him.


	7. Chapter 7: Misplaced Trust

**Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers**

 **Warning: Avengers AU**

 **Alternative storylines/plot, Alive!Pietro, Neutral/Good! Loki, Neutral/Good!Ultron**

* * *

 _ **Chapter 7: Misplaced Trust**_

* * *

 _"Mistrust those whom the urge to punish is strong,"  
\- Friedrich Nietzsche_

* * *

The noises which originated from the outside world were muffled by the walls inside of the facility, making it almost impossible for her to distinguish them as she and her father stepped further into the building, almost completely shut off from the outside world more than ever. She had no idea about what was about to happen or what it was that she was meant to do, but whatever it was, she would not fail the task at hand. Looking over her shoulder, she saw nobody following them and she felt no one's presence close by, prompting her to assume that whatever her father was intending on, it included only the two of them. She was hardly any stranger towards what he did to her whenever they were alone, when they _used_ to be alone, but it didn't seem like that was what he was intending on doing this time, and for some unfathomable reason, she felt relief rushing through her knowing that.

"They haven't penetrated through the shields yet," said Jeraslovik as they headed further down the stairs, occasionally glancing back at her to make sure she was following close behind. "We'll take this chance to get out of here, escape before the Avengers are able to take you away."

"Take me away?" she asked, looking at him uncertainly. Where would she be taken away from?

When they finally reached the end of the stairs, Jeraslovik stopped walking and turned to look at her, an apologetic expression on his face. He bent down to her height and grabbed her shoulders, shaking them gently. "Yes, my dear, they will want to take you away from me, you understand? They will want to hurt you, and we will never be able to see each other again. We cannot let them do that."

Take her away from her father? The thought caused her stomach to churn, more so than it ever did in the past. Her father being away from her was a feeling that made everything within her swell with pain, and if these people, these enemies, whoever they were, intended on taking her, harming her, separating her from her father, she would not let them succeed. She would finish them herself if it ever came to that. "That won't happen," she said, finding her voice again. "No."

Her father smiled sincerely. "That's very ambitious of you, dear, but we can't risk them as much as looking at you, you understand? We have to get out of here now."

And with that, he turned around and they continued walking. For what felt like an eternity, they didn't as much as look back. Or rather, they couldn't afford to. She felt millions of questions running through her head. Where were they going? Where in the outside world was her father intending for them to seek refuge in?

Everything came to halt when there came an identical tremble in the ground beneath them like the one before. She managed to keep her balance and avoid falling whereas her father was not too fortunate. He fell to the ground on his knees and let out a shallow breath as if he had been suffocated previously. On instinct, she bent down and helped him regain his stance, pulling him up by his arm. Nodding to her, Jeraslovik got to his feet and readjusted his clothes. "They must have broken through the barriers. The only way they could've done that would be through breaking the power source. We have to hurry."

And they ventured further into the facility, so far below ground that the noises from outside sounded like little less than taps on the walls. Had it not been for her father's persistence in retrieving whatever he searched for before they abandoned the facility completely, she might have taken the initiative herself and gotten out of there with him on her own. Granted, she knew little about the outside world except for what her father and the other scientists had deliberately told her little about, but she knew how to read and write, she had been taught more languages that it was thought possible for a human to learn, and if cases turned sour and she was forced to purposely use her abilities, fending off potential enemies would be of no trouble whatsoever. That was what she was meant to do.

Eventually, they reached what she initially believed to be yet another corridor, but her assumptions were soon proven wrong and she found herself marvelling at the sight of what appeared to be some kind of ginormous creature out of the world she had grown up within. Whatever that thing was, it could hardly be identified as something not even she could be able to defeat single-handedly. In fact, it didn't look like something anyone would be able to defeat even if they put every effort in it.

The room it was contained in looked like an underground cave which was supposed to be inhibited by several more of those creatures if there existed any at all. The room contained within it several mechanical pieces, weapons of all sorts, unfinished products that were undoubtedly meant to cause fatal destruction upon anything it was supposed to be aimed at and more. She felt something akin to them, but that soon abruptly stopped when Jeraslovik gestured for her to follow behind him as they entered the room.

They both went up the stairs which lead to a platform, but then Jeraslovik suddenly stopped, causing her to crash into his back. It wasn't until that she looked past him that she noticed what it was that had caught her father's attention. Up ahead on the platform in front of them stood a man, yet behind him stood a figure she could easily recognize even though it had been years since she last saw her. It was the red woman, and judging by the crimson lines which circled her appendages, she was exploiting her abilities for something.

The red woman then stepped back, not acknowledging the presence of the people behind her, and the man in front of her began to behave… Oddly. He swiftly turned around as if having been caught off-guard by something, or someone, yet his eyes didn't flash to either of them. It didn't seem like he knew that he wasn't alone and that his attention had been caught by something else which neither of them was able to notice.

Jeraslovik let out a chuckle. "Impressive work, little witch," he said, and only then did the red woman turn around and her face paled as her eyes fell on the doctor.

" _You_."

"It's been some time, Miss Maximoff," Jeraslovik took a step forward, grinning. "Though I am rather curious. What is it you have done to Mr Stark? Are you making him see things that aren't really there? How naughty of you."

The red woman's eyes flashed in her signature color and she reached both of her arms out to each side of her body, conjuring the scarlet lines of which her powers manifested the form of. "You're not getting the sceptre,"

"No," Jeraslovik said casually, waving his hand dismissively. "I'm not, but she is." Taking a step to the side, he allowed his daughter to come forward, her eyes meeting those of the red woman, blue against red. The red woman's face fell to something of an apologetic look and it almost seemed as if she felt tempted to let her hands down and cease the assault, but she could not allow herself to allow that wretched man to get away with something so powerful. Soon enough, neither of them acknowledged Mr Stark in the background.

"I don't want to hurt you," she whispered.

The girl said nothing in return, only continued to stare at the red woman with something akin to an empty look.

"Finish her quickly, dear," Jeraslovik demanded. "We can't waste any tim-"

There was a flash of silver and the doctor fell limp to the ground, unconscious and unmoving. The girl's eyes went vivid as she began to search around from the perpetrator, turning her back against the red woman as her eyes scanned the perimeter. Grasping the opportunity, Wanda ran towards the girl and placed both of her hands on the girl's head and conjured her abilities forth. The girl attempted to pull her off, conjuring the abilities of her own, but too late. Soon enough, her eyes flashed in the same crimson colour and she fell to the ground, her back leaning against Wanda's legs as she descended to the floor.

Wanda, being considerate enough, grabbed the girl's shoulders and eased the fall, making sure that it would not be of too much pain before she let go of the poor girl. Pulling a few strands of her dark hair away from her face, Wanda stood up and let out a breath. Glaring at the unconscious form of doctor Jeraslovik, she deemed that it would be best if the Avengers took the girl away, and as long as it meant that that monster of a father was gone, it would be the best for them all.

She glanced back at Stark and she could see, as clear as daybreak, what kind of vision he was having. The death of his comrades, the destruction of the world at his hand. That self-loathing would be his downfall and she could not wait for him to break beneath the pressure. She now understood what Stark truly feared, and based on that alone, she was now able to see what it was that would be the end of him.

When Stark indicated by his bodily movements that he was by now slowly regaining his senses, Wanda stepped away and out of sight. Her brother appeared shortly besides her, wanting to prevent the Iron Man from taking the sceptre, but she interfered. She wanted him to take it, to let it destroy him like she had predicted it would, or rather like he predicted it would.

Pietro looked confused at his sister, not knowing what she planned. "You're just gonna let him take it?" he asked her, watching as Stark conjured one of his gauntlets and grabbed the sceptre from its containment.

* * *

 _ **Several weeks later**_

The next time the girl awoke, she found herself under similar circumstances. Strapped down, several wires pierced through her skin, an enormous headache, and several other inflictions that she couldn't find the energy to describe. In fact, she couldn't find the energy to do anything at all. Her chest felt heavy, like thousands of pounds laid on top of her, and every inch of her body felt numb. It felt like she had just been killed again, because every time she was killed, that same sense of numbness accompanied her after she resurrected. Had she died? Would that be the explanation behind this?

She tried to lift her hand up, but she felt unable to do so. Not because of the binds that were wrapped around her appendages, but because her body lacked the physical strength in order to do so. She could hardly breathe without feeling exhausted, and as much as it degenerated her pride to admit so aloud, she didn't find an ounce of will within her to break free from her binds. She wished to be reunited with her father, to go home, but that was something out of her reach at that point. The only thing she could do was to wait and see how things would work out.

Flickering her eyes around the room, she could tell that she was no longer granted the privilege of seeing the outside world through a window anymore. She was completely cut-off from what laid outside, and because of that, it felt as if the heaviness above her chest increased. Even though she had barely caught as much as a single glimpse of the world outside, she longed for it, just a single look would be enough to appease her curiosity. If the world was truly that big, then she must have felt like nothing more than a meek, insignificant piece of it. Her demise, as unlikely as it seemed, would not affect it to any significant degree. In other words, she was worthless, but she was special. Her father had taught her as much, yet at that moment, she felt herself beginning to doubt those words. It was something she never imagined she would for as long as she lived.

There came a creaking sound and she slowly turned her head around to the source, only to find Stark standing there. "Look, kid," he said and shut the door behind him. "Before you ask all the 'why am I here' or 'where the hell am I' yadayada crap, I'm just gonna advise you that you won't get so easily out of those restraints this time," Stark took a seat next to the bed she laid on and faced her with a stoic expression. "They're advanced, which means that any attempt at using your voodoo on them will result in an electric shock equivalent to the amount of kinetic, or rather telekinetic, energy it senses. Just stay still and nothing will happen. Capiche?"

She didn't move a muscle, and he must have taken this as some kind of affirmative answer. "Not that I'm expecting you to move very much at all. In fact, I'll say it's a miracle that you're conscious by now, judging by all the interior damage that you seem to find yourself unfortunate enough to have," Before he continued, Stark took a deep breath and appeared to become somewhat hesitant about what he was going to elaborate next. If anything, anyone could easily have mistaken his expression for being apologetic rather than stoic. "I'll get to the point; your body's practically breaking down. Several organs were on the brink of shutting completely, your heartbeats are down to a low point, you're malnourished and dehydrated like hell, and had we not given you the proper treatment in time, you would've died, or in worse case, stayed unconscious for longer than just a day like now."

From what she could tell, killing him now would be inconvenient. He possessed answers, and if she wished to receive them, she would have to do what she was often taught at the facility; pretend. If she could somehow gain his trust and all the answers she was in need of, including the current location of her father, then she could answer anything that Stark would want to ask her. It was a small price to pay, but she knew by now that hardly anything was, in the proper terms, free. An exchange with mutually beneficial results, more so on her side than anything.

She slowly opened her mouth and managed to mutter, "Where…"

"Sorry, can't tell you that," said Stark almost instantly. "Though I'm curious that you're not going to use any of your voodoo on me."

What was _voodoo_?

"But why don't we start with your name, hmm?" he asked, leaning a bit forth as if to inspect her of any signs of hostility. He found none of the sorts, which came as a genuine surprise, since her attacking Steve was a sign that she was ultimately dangerous. Yet here she was, somewhat complying to his wishes without any indication towards attacking him anytime soon.

Stark then proceeded to touch some sort of button on the side of her bed. The next moment, she felt the mattress beneath her shifting and in less than a few seconds, her back had been raised to a 60-degree angle and she could now look at Stark with no need to raise her head anymore like she needed to earlier.

"Better?" he asked.

She didn't reply either verbally or physically. She tried to figure out an answer to the inquiry he had asked earlier, yet found none. A name? She had never before been acknowledged with a proper designation other than the names her father had granted her such as 'dear' and the likes. Not even Baron had ever addressed her as anything else except 'she' and 'doll'. What answer would appease to the man's curiosity and cause him to proceed without suspicion?

Then it hit her.

"Eve," She answered without pause.

" _Eve_?" he asked for verification and when she nodded, it prompted him to continue.

"Alright, Eve, let me ask you this: Why were you at the Hydra facility in Sokovia?"

When she blinked, obviously confused about hearing the location of her initial home, Stark continued. "Did Strucker promise you powers in exchange for your volunteering for the experiments? Did you have loved ones you wanted to avenge and therefore agreed to join? Why did you agree to the experiments in the first place?" She could easily detect on his facial features that he was visibly distraught by the questions he asked her though he attempted his best to hide that fact. At one point, he even looked away from her, as if her eyes would penetrate his cranium, but he quickly glanced back and waited for her answer.

The only problem was that she found herself incapable of answering any of those questions. What kind of experiments had she volunteered to do? She hadn't volunteered to do anything at all. What did he mean by volunteering? The experiments, were those the things her father had done to her so that she wouldn't get weak? Those weren't anything she wouldn't do for her father's sake, and by looking at Stark, it didn't take her a lot of time to deduce that he thought ill of her father. She felt her loathing for him increase and she wished to annihilate him then and there, but she refrained. If she could keep this up long enough for her to receive answers as well as trust on his side, then she would have to endure it a little longer. She had been taught enough about the outside world to know what to do and what to say.

"I was at the facility," she began slowly, forming her sentence carefully. "Because of father."

Stark narrowed his eyes at this. "Father? Your father was working for Hydra?"

She nodded. "Jeraslovik."

At the mention of that name alone, Stark bolted up from his seat, his face paling. "Dr Jeraslovik is your-" he paused for a second, thinking about what to say next. He sighed and sat back down again. "Look, kid, I'm willing to let everything that happened earlier go. The attack, you going through Cap's memories, everything, I'm willing to let it slip. However, I need all the answers you can give me. Please."

She narrowed her eyes.

"In return, I'll ask Fury to cut you some slack. We'll help you get better, maybe even get you a stuffed animal for company. Any intel you can give us about the project involving the sceptre, even about your father, will increase your privileges."

That was a compromise that would benefit her more than it would benefit them, and as such, she decided that it would be best for her to agree to their terms. Once she had her strength returned and the answers regarding her father's location, she would obliterate them all without a second thought. After all, they were only people. There were surely more in the world than just them. It would be trivial if they were to die. People were expendable, like her father had said, and as such, there was no reason to hesitate.

She nodded. This was the longest conversation she had actually ever had with anyone thus far, as the ones she had with her father were usually one-sided.

Stark began with, "Could you give us any names? Anyone associated with Hydra that we haven't caught yet? Anyone could be of importance." It was evident that Stark was desperate for anything, and she could easily feed of that desperation and use it for her own good.

She thought for a moment before she said, "The Red Woman and the Grey Man,"

Stark blinked, obviously bemused. " _Red Woman and Grey Man_?"

She nodded. There was no doubt that those answers would suffice him enough to let him ease up a little bit, more so that what would be considered wisely.

The man thought for a moment before he seemed to catch onto what she was implying. "You must be referring to Wanda and Pietro Maximoff, is that right?"

She nodded, not recalling their names from the past.

"Alright," From something attached to his wrist, a hologram appeared in the air and Stark scribbled some notes down. Even though she had seen holograms in the past, there was something about them that always fascinated her.

"Anything else?" Stark asked.

"Baron,"

"Strucker?"

She affirmed his question with yet another nod.

"That's of no use to us," he said, much to her dismay. "We've already caught him."

"List." She recalled one of the doctors' names, the one who had been the one to kill her for the first time. It continued like that for what felt like a long time. For each name she would pronounce, Stark would either scribble it down on the hologram or state that it would be of no use to them, either because the people in question had already been caught or were conformed deceased. A little while later, she mentioned something which caught the man's interest in particular. It was a name that she had not heard for quite some time now and whenever she thought about it, memories would flood through her head about the time where she was nearly beaten to death for the first time.

"John Smith,"

"I'm sorry, what now?"

"John Smith," she repeated, not looking at Stark as she spoke. Her eyes were glued to the ceiling and her breathing was slowing down as she thought about the sight of the metal arm repeatedly beating her down and breaking several bones in her body. "Alexander Pierce,"

"Alexander Pierce's been dead for quite some time now," Stark said and hardly seemed concerned about that individual. "But tell me about this Smithy guy. Can you describe him?"

"Blue eyes," she spoke slowly, recalling the remorse in the soldier's eyes. "Dark hair,"

"Anything significant about him?"

Then, she turned around to face him, her eyes penetrating through his. "Metal arm."

"Excuse me," Stark's eyes widened at the mention of this. "Did you just say … Metal arm?"

She nodded.

Stark let out a sigh and planted a hand over his head, thinking about something she didn't have the strength to indulge in. Some of her strength had returned, but not to the point where she was stable enough to take the risk of attacking him straightforward. She would have to wait a little longer if she wished to make it out to locate her father again, and for that to happen, she had to continue pretending to be what they wouldn't imagine her to be. A child.

However, Stark made it clear that he was done with the questions. The hologram disappeared from sight and he stood up from his seat, turning his back to her as if he did not as much as identify her presence as genuine.

"I'll be- I'll be back in a little while, kid," he said slowly, reaching for the door handle. "I'll have someone get you some food in a bit, but until then, we cannot risk you getting out on your own. Don't try anything while I'm gone, alright?" And with that, he opened the door and closed it behind him as he left, abandoning her to the silence once again. It was a feeling which she was hardly unfamiliar with, but the gesture itself caused her to feel a little lost at the moment. With no father to guide her, no powers to ensure her own safety, and no practical knowledge of the outside world to ensure that she could make it there on her own, what was she supposed to do?

Glancing down at her restricted hands, she decided that there was nothing she could do until she had gained their trust. They weren't fools, that was easy enough to debunk. They would undoubtedly keep her there with these… shackles still attached to her. Until they were removed, she would have to stay.

By the time Tony met up with Steve again, he didn't have to say that he was distraught. It could easily be revealed by the way he was looking in the soldier's direction that something was amiss. They met up later that day at Tony's house again, and for some understandable reason, Bruce was still cooped up in their lab, deciding to continue with the research rather than to engage in any social conventions. It had been a couple of weeks now since their success at infiltrating the Hydra base again and reclaiming the sceptre, yet none of them were in the mood to celebrate at the moment.

"She's awake," was all Tony said as he poured himself a glass of whiskey.

"Who is she?" Steve asked and cast Tony a curious glance his way. "Did she say?"

"Her name's apparently Eve," said Tony and took a sip from his drink, allowing the alcohol to clear his head for a moment. "She said she's Jeraslovik's daughter, that mad scientist guy that we sent to Brussel with Strucker. I don't doubt that he's the reason why she was enhanced; the guy was practically, like said, _mad_."

"How old did you say she was again?"

"Well, from what the doctors reported to me about her physical conditions, I would say she's no older than eighteen or so. However, she's underdeveloped, full of internal injuries that will be tended to in due time, and from what I experienced, it didn't seem like she was used to talking much. Either that, or she's just good at keeping things in the dark."

"I believe she's more or less the one who's been kept in the dark, Tony," said Steve. "She survived the experiments just like the Maximoff twins."

"Yes, but the Maximoff twins had their own reasons. The girl's reasons were because of her dear father, according to her."

"So, she was forced?"

"I personally believe most eighteen-year-old wouldn't dream about engaging in something like that even for a million dollars,"

Steve raised an eyebrow at this, causing Tony to raise his arms.

"I said _most_ ," He circled around the bar for a minute or so before he spoke again, much slower now as if he was tasting his words before he said, "The doctors also discovered one more thing…. She's not… She's been…."

"She's not a what, Tony?" This earned itself Steve's full attention and he stood up, looking over at the billionaire.

Tony let out a sigh and took a large gulp from his drink before he said, "Her reproductive organs have shut down, and not solely because of malnourishment or the experiments that were evidently conducted on her." What followed next was silence and little less. Stark had fallen to a consuming stillness as if time had frozen around him and it took Steve's voice to snap him out of the temporary trance he had been put under.

"Tony," Steve took a step forward, trying to keep his calm as the comprehension dawned over him about what his friend was implying. Even so, he could feel his nerved shaking violently beneath his skin and he struggled for a moment to find his voice. However, he tried his best to reclaim what little equanimity had left him and he said with a voice so even that it would seem as if he had never been calmer than he was at that moment. "What are we going to do with her?"

"Yeah, that's what I'm asking you," he replied quickly, facing the captain and putting the glass down at the counter again. "Until further, we'll keep asking her about her involvement with Hydra and try to figure out as much as we can from her. Once then, she'll have to be contained somehow, but I doubt that keeping her locked up is the most - what's the word again - _ethical_ thing to do. But she's not stable enough to be let out of sight, let alone out in the open."

"What did Fury say?"

"Fury didn't respond. He doesn't seem to do that for the majority of the time as of recently."

Steve thought for a moment, uncertain about the potential solutions to the problem at hand. Judging Tony's word letter for letter, as well as the experience he had prior to her containment the day before, he came to the conclusion that keeping her around until further would be best, but not under the wrong supervision. If they could somehow earn her trust and prove that they weren't going to cause her any harm, would she….

"Tony, as soon as she's healed and deemed stable enough, could we bring her here?"

Tony felt the remainder of the whiskey left in his throat choking him as his ears processed these words. "Are you _insane_?" he asked incredulously and wiped his mouth, opening up his arms as if expecting an embrace from someone.

"Not without the proper precautions," Steve added hastily. "We'll keep her here, make sure that her powers can't do any harm, and then we'll work it from there."

"And who's going to take responsibility if hell break's loose? Who's going to make sure that she stays in check all the time?"

"I will."

"What are you, Supernanny? Emphasis on the _super_ , because this is what I believe to be a _super_ _stupid_ idea!"

"Tony, I can tell from first-hand experience that being locked up in the dark for god-knows how long is not the best way to rehabilitate from something like _that_!" Steve let out a breath. "Just listen. I'll look after her and if anything goes to hell, I'll take the responsibility."

"And if lives are included in those responsibilities?" asked Tony rhetorically, walking around the bar and up to him. "In the end, Captain Bluebell, she's one of Hydra's creations, alright. She may be just a kid, but she's dangerous. What she did yesterday to you may just be a stunt for fun. Who knows what she's capable of doing given the opportunity?

"Tony, give me a chance." There was no longer an argument, no heated debate, no shouting, and no sarcastic retorts. It was a simple request from one friend to another. They stood like that for minutes, motionless, in complete silence, before Tony finally gave in.

"You better know what you're doing, cap," and with that, he turned around and prepared to return to the lab, but not before saying one last thing.

"By the way, she mentioned John Smith."

"John Smith? Who's that?"

"Someone who has a metal arm for some reason."

Before Steve could say anything, Tony disappeared, leaving the captain standing there.


	8. Chapter 8: New World

**Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers**

 **Warning: Avengers AU**

 **Alternative storylines/plot, Alive!Pietro, Neutral/Good! Loki, Neutral/Good!Ultron**

* * *

 _ **Chapter 8: New World**_

* * *

They days progressed from then on with nothing major occurring during either of them. Eve stayed in the cell that had been assigned for her in case she attempted at doing something that could potentially result with devastating consequences, yet nothing happened. She stayed put, didn't put up any fight when the doctors would inject her with medicine which was crucial to her healing process, and didn't give them a hard time about anything.

Occasionally, Tony would arrive to ask her some more questions and she wouldn't hesitate to answer any of them with the exception for those she was unable to answer. Only when the name of her 'father' Jeraslovik was mentioned did she lose her voice. In any case, none of the answers she provided them with were completely worthless and it seemed like that her 'incapacity' for speaking was nothing more than herself deliberately keeping her tongue from running. She didn't seem like she was accustomed to speaking for long periods at a time.

A little while later, Tony agreed to let her walk freely around the room but on the condition that the binds around her wrists stayed on and restricted her abilities so that she couldn't cause anything to happen. At first, they both agreed that it seemed a little sudden, but eventually, they discovered that the girl hardly did anything in the room. The camera in the corner of the ceiling revealed it all, and there were rare occasions where she would do anything but walk around in the room, observing her surroundings, as limited as it seemed. Even so, the look in her eyes caused Steve to feel a little uneasy. From their perspective, his and Tony's, it looked like a blind person who had just been exposed to a world of colors. Or perhaps she was just feeling slightly relieved about finally being freed.

A couple of more days passed and Steve decided that it was time for him to meet her face to face again. What Tony had told him, about the John Smith person with the metal arms, could only add up to one individual that he knew of. Reaching for the handle outside the cell, there came a beep of approval before the door opened up and Steve let himself inside, arriving just in time to see Eve sitting on top of her bed, looking perplexed down at her wrists as if it was the first time she acknowledged the binds that were still wrapped around them. Albeit she wasn't restricted from moving around as she wished, Steve felt a pang of guilt in his chest at the sight. Being imprisoned wasn't a feeling he wished to inflict on anyone unless they had it coming. This wasn't someone who deserved it, he knew as much.

Her eyes snapped to him as she heard him enter and she froze, though her eyes didn't increase in size. She just sat there motionlessly, her dark eyes never leaving his. He offered her a sincere smile and held up a tray of food that he had brought, and he could tell that she was hungry. It had been a few hours since someone had last brought her any food and it wasn't hard to debunk that nobody wished to stay alone with a weapon of mass destruction more than a few minutes at a time. This time, however, he decided that he would sit and talk to her himself.

"Nice to see you again, kid," he said and sat down on the chair next to her bed, offering her the tray. Due to Tony's precautions, there was no cutlery on the side of her meal. Only a napkin. True, the only food on the tray was a few slices of bread, a plastic cup of water, and a bar of chocolate, but it would surely be enough to keep her for a couple of hours. In any case, he decided it would be best if he came by a little later so that she wouldn't starve throughout the night, and judging by her sick-looking physique, starvation was perhaps one of the last things she was in need of.

"Captain Steven Rogers," she acknowledged him, eyes narrowing at the sight of the food as if it was poison in disguise. Even though she was visibly hungry judging by the amalgamation of hunger and disdain she was looking at the tray with, Steve decided not to taunt her and put it down on top of the bed in front of her.

"Guessed you were hungry," he said, gesturing to the food. When she still didn't move, he said with a low sigh, "It's edible. I promise nothing's going to hurt you here."

"..." Eve still didn't say anything, though judging by the way her shoulder's lowered, it seemed like she was a little bit more at ease now. Hesitantly, she reached her hand forward to grab one of the bread slices, the one with strawberry jam on top. She seemed to study it for a moment like an exhibition at a museum before she took a small bite of it, hardly one at all, more like a half. Her face seemed torn between scepticism and curiosity before she proceeded to take another bite, a bigger one this time. Her face suddenly lit a little up and the closest thing to a smile fell on her face. Before Steve could even comprehend what was going on, the bread slice was completely erased from existence and Even proceeded to consume the next slices in less than a minute. True to his assumptions, she seemed like an animal that had been starved of sustenance.

Once all of the food was gone, including the glass of water, her hunger seemed to pause at the sight of the Hershel bar lying next to the plate the bread slices had previously occupied. The same cynicism had returned and Steve felt a little tempted to laugh at the sight, yet he refrained.

"What's that?" Eve suddenly asked, speaking for the first time since she had spoken his name earlier without looking away from the fascinating specimen in front of her.

"Chocolate," he affirmed.

"Chocolate?" She turned to look at him as if asking him 'what's that?'.

The fact that she didn't know what something as basic as chocolate was alarmed Steve a little bit, but he nonetheless reached forth and grabbed it, opening it and displaying the brown piece in front of her. She tilted her head slightly to the side and reached for it, grabbing it from him and holding it close to her eyes, inspecting it in similar manners like she had to the bread slices. If the sight of ordinary foods was such an uncommon occurrence for her…. Steve failed to keep a shiver from running up his back and his stomach churned internally.

Then she took a bite, and almost at once, her face lit up again. Like before, it was only a matter of seconds before the entire thing was gone from existence. The only things that proved that its existence had once been very real were the traces of chocolate on her face. Chuckling for the first time, Steve reached for the napkin and handed it to her, gesturing to the spots on her face. She merely tilted her head again and looked at him with nothing but curiosity, obviously oblivious towards the stains on her face. "You have some here," he said and pointed at her face just beneath her left cheek, but she didn't respond, he did something he would later come to regret.

"Would you mind it if…" before he finished that question, he reached the napkin a little closer towards her, aiming for the darkened spot on her cheek, but before it came as close as just a few inches, he felt her hand wrap around his wrist and prevent him from coming closer, almost threatening. He flinched and stopped instantly, looking at her. Her eyes were now shaped into an ice-cold glare which spoke murder at even a single wrong move. Knowing his mistake and internally cursing himself, Steve sat back down and rubbed the back of his head. "Sorry, I didn't mean it like…" he paused, unable to finish talking when he watched Eve draw a hand across her face, smearing some of the chocolate away but letting the rest remain. Her eyes never left his, though they were significantly more intimidating now than ever. He couldn't exactly blame her.

"Anyway," he tried slowly, tasting his words before speaking them aloud. "I wanted to ask you something if you wouldn't mind answering?"

"A question?" she asked, decreasing the intensity of her glare but not erasing it completely.

"Yes, it's about…." He hesitated for a second before he found the will to finally ask. "The person you called John Smith."

As soon as he said that name, her gaze fell to the floor but it didn't give off the impression that she was afraid for any reason. It didn't help that her hair was slightly shielding her face beneath it, but for whatever reason, he doubted that it was fear she displayed. "Alexander Pierce," she said hollowly. "John Smith was with him."

"I know that, but when was the last time you saw him? Is he still with Hydra? Where is he? Do you know it?" Steve asked a little hastily, threatening to get up from his seat at any moment if it meant that he could figure out anything regarding his best friend, if he was still alive, that was. He didn't doubt he was, but that answer wasn't sufficient enough.

The only answer he received, however, was a shaking head. She said nothing, and she didn't need to in order to confirm his suspicions. Eve didn't know where he was, and he felt what little hope he felt building up in his chest demolish. He sank back into his seat, hand over his forehead. So much for a little bit of hope.

"Bucky,"

He looked up at her, confused. "What did you say?"

"You called him Bucky," she repeated, looking with something akin to curiosity over at him. "What's a Bucky?"

"How did you…" Comprehension dawned on him as he remembered what had happened when she first woke up there. She had gone through his head, seen some of his memories, some of which included the 'death' of his best friend. The images still haunted him to the present date, but hearing someone other than himself mention that name felt somehow… relieving.

"He was my best friend," he said, exhaling.

"A friend?"

"Yeah, the best in the entire world," Steve smiled. "I thought I'd lost him."

"Didn't you?" she asked.

"Nah, I didn't. But he lost himself, and I'm planning to bring him back."

Eve said nothing else after that, only continuing to stare at Steve as if he was a weird person. In one way, he supposed he was, but if it ever came to the measure of strength, he already knew by then that he had lost.

"Where are you from?" he found himself asking, deciding to change the subject. "Are you from Sokovia?"

"From home," she replied.

"Where's home?"

"Home,"

" _Where_ is home, exactly?"

"Home,"

He sighed and decided to give up. "Tell me about your home, then? What was it like?"

She was silent for a moment before she said, "There was me, father, Baron, the Red and the Silver man, a lot of people in white clothes."

"What about your mother?"

"Mother?" The way she said that word could be compared to someone saying something from a foreign language with no prior knowledge. It seemed like it was alien to her, and that did little to ease Steve about her situation and the circumstances she had grown up under.

"You know," he tried. "A mother. It's like a father, just…. Female?"

"There's just father, always father," she said casually as if she was discussing the weather. She looked distant for a second, eyes averted from him and positioned on the camera up in the corner of the ceiling. "Where is father?" she asked, not looking away from the camera.

He should have seen this coming. "I can't tell you that, kid,"

"Is he alive?"

"I can't tell you that either,"

" _Is he alive_?"

"…. He is," Steve found himself relenting, not wanting to say or do anything that could anger the girl, yet something didn't match up. "But I don't understand…. Why would you want to find him? All he's ever done is to hurt you, even worse than hurt you, so why do you wish to return to him? We can help you, give you back your life, protect you."

The way Eve looked at him after he said that was unreadable but if he had to make a guess, it would be that she was looking at him like he was a fool. "Father loves me," she said, ignoring his bewildered expression as she spoke, completely calm and in no way incapable of controlling her actions. "He protects me, because of him, I'm alive."

"He doesn't…." Steve let out a sigh. "How can you say that? 'He loves' and 'he protects' you? After everything he's done to you?"

"He hasn't done anything to me," she said, apparently finding it far easier to stay calm than he did. "He would never hurt me."

"He already has,"

With that, he got up from his seat and headed over to the door. Looking over his shoulder one last time, he noticed that there was neither disdain nor contempt to spot amongst her features. Rather, her eyes were turned to the wall, as if expecting to see someone there. He couldn't exactly blame her, but for whatever reason, that alone was enough to give him an idea about how to make progress.

* * *

"I don't think that we're at any liberty to keep her cooped up for much longer," The evening at Tony's apartment became long and somewhat cold. After having explained to the rest of the group, including Banner for once, about what had happened during his visit to the girl, unsurprisingly, Tony was the first one to object to his suggestion towards moving her location sooner.

"When I agreed to the plan, I didn't mean it so soon," was all Tony had to say as he paced around the room with a bottle – an entire bottle of whiskey – occupying his hands. Natasha stood next to the couch which both Clint and Banner occupied alone, though it was evident that she was focusing on the situation to a higher degree than either of the two other men did. "We already have the United Nations looking over our shoulders if anything goes to hell, and letting an enhanced out loose just like that," He snapped his fingers.

"I'm not saying we'll let her walk freely out in the open," Steve contradicted him. "We'll let her stay here like we agreed, and keep an eye on her. She'll remain incapacitated from her powers. I have reasons to believe that she's not too accustomed to the world like we are."

"How do you know that?" Natasha asked, joining in on the conversation for the first time. Her eyes seemed intently fixated on something else, however.

"From what I discovered when I was with her, she's incapable of knowing the definition of certain words and certain items that would otherwise have been almost mandatory to know about. When I asked her about her mother, she looked at me as if she had no idea what I was talking about. She said that her father had been the only one there with her," He could feel his fists clenching and unclenching and the thought of what he had done to her. "Jeraslovik's brainwashed her almost completely,"

"Another reason which contributes to why we should keep her where she's currently at," Tony intervened, putting the bottle down and headed over to the table. "She's unpredictable, and what's more, she's dangerous to keep around. Seventeen years, Steve, think about what Hydra could've managed to put into her head during that time span. We spent so much time trying to find it, and now that we finally have, we have enhanced humans to deal with as well. The Maximoff twins are probably still in Sokovia and, believe it or not, I'd rather keep it that way."

"And Eve's just supposed to stay locked up like they did to her at the Sokovian facility?"

"I'm saying that there's a difference-"

"Really? Is there?" Bruce stood up from the couch and turned to his companion, glasses askew on his tired face. "Tony, keeping her locked up there isn't going to quick up the progress. It's not going to defuse her if she's as unpredictable as you say she is."

"Funny, I recall you having stayed at the lab for several weeks straight now and been making a ton of progress." Tony retorted, to which Steve narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

"Progress on what, exactly?" he asked.

Tony waved his hand dismissively. "Nothing of importance."

"If you intend on keeping her there," Clint began, not moving an inch from his seat. "How long are you planning on keeping her there? A month? A year?"

"For however long it takes," Tony threw his arms out, unconsciously spilling out a bit of the alcohol. "Until we're completely sure that she will pose no threat to us."

"Bet that keeping her there is very convincing," Bruce said, to which Tony scowled.

"Help me out a little bit here, guys. Look at this like I do: We have an enhanced teenager who's been brainwashed by her psychopathic mad-genius father and is not even one inch away from annihilating us all if she wants to. Then suddenly this guy," he gestured to Steve, causing him to roll his eyes. "Comes up with the great idea that we, hey, let her walk freely around like she sees fit without any plans in case she, I don't know, blows everything up."

"I'm not saying we let her walk freely," Steve was feeling his patience running out bit by bit. "All I'm saying is that we keep her under surveillance here, make sure that she's completely incapable of using her powers in any way, and maybe teach her a thing or two about the world."

"You're gonna be her teacher now?" Tony asked rhetorically, swinging the whiskey bottle to him and taking a generous sip from it. "Teach her about the virtues of humanity? Teach her to keep her powers in control like frickin' Frozen? From where I'm standing, it's like delaying a ticking time bomb by five minutes, maybe ten if we're lucky."

"It sounds a little better than letting a kid stay cooped up in a cell," Clint said, flashing Steve a look between agreement and perhaps scepticism. Being a father of two, soon three, he had a soft spot for children yet wasn't about to let that blind his judgement. "How's she contained again? How're her powers incapacitated?"

"With the help of the scepter," Bruce explained. "We developed binds around her wrists that erupt with mild electric shock if they detect anything even remotely similar to the source of their powers. Depending on the size of strength in her, the shocks will equalize to match them."

"That sounds like containing an animal," said Natasha thoughtfully, torn between approval and disapproval. "Though I do see the need for it."

Tony raised an eyebrow as if having heard wrong. "Did you just agree with me?"

She gave him an unimpressed look and shook her head. "Don't even start, Stark."

"Too late."

"Tony, come on," Steve pleaded. "Give it a shot. I'll take full responsibility if anything goes wrong, I told you that I would."

"And I told you that it will be too risky."

"When has anything we've done ever been risk-free?"

"Too little has been," Tony sagged down into a seat and let out a ragged breath. "But I doubt that it won't keep you from trying, will it?"

"You know me that much?" His lips curled up into a smile that wasn't completed before Tony abruptly continued.

"If I agree to this stupidity, there will be conditions, and if any of them are broken in even the tiniest ways, she's going back."

Steve didn't like the sound of that but relented. "Alright. What conditions?"

"She's to remain here at all times, the binds will stay on, and if even the slightest suspicious actions are committed by her, then it's out. Is that clear?"

"Understood." Steve nodded.

Tony sighed and turned to the other three. "You've been very helpful, by the way."

"That's what we're here for." Natasha snickered.

* * *

The next day, Eve awoke to the feeling of being gently nudged in the side. Fluttering her eyes open as she felt herself fully succumb to consciousness, she glanced up to see the face of Steven Rogers looking over her from the side of her bed. Out of instinct, she quickly got up and prepared to throw her fist at him, deeming any presence with the exception of her father's a threat, but she stopped just as it was an inch or so away from the bridge of his nose.

"Sorry to wake you," he said.

At first, she didn't understand what it was that required her attention immediately. Were there more questions? Had they decided to dispose of her now that her usefulness had expired? They could try, but she wouldn't let them if it ever came to that. As her eyes travelled down on him, they fell upon what she could only recognize as clothing. Several layers, in fact, which was on the contrary of the ones she had previously worn. She was currently wearing but a white, thin gown that was similar to what she wore earlier back at home, but it seemed like she was expected to be dressed much more now.

She cast the clothes a curious look before she glanced back at Steven Rogers, expecting an explanation.

"We'll leave shortly, but I guess that these will be much more comfortable to wear outside than the ones you're wearing now."

Outside? Were they headed for the outside world? Would she finally receive a glimpse of it?

"Outside?" she asked, tilting her head slightly to the side.

"That's right," he affirmed, placing the clothes down on the bed in front of her before he turned around and headed for the door. "Just come out when you're ready. I'll be waiting outside." And with that, he exited the room and closed the door behind him. Questions flooded through her head at this. Why was he leaving her alone? Wasn't he expecting her to try and make an escape? Looking down at the clothes, she began to suspect that they were involved somehow.

Eve grabbed the first layer of the neatly-folded fabrics. A color which she was unable to identify the specific name of, yet she recalled as something she had seen in the past. In fact, it held the same color as the bed. She held it up in front of her and watched it unravel into what looked like some kind of shirt, yet it stretched down until it almost reached the brink of the gown she was still wearing. It was long-sleeved and appeared to be something that was supposed to be worn by something much larger than herself. Putting it aside, she followed the same pattern with the other fabrics. The next one was something that almost stretched further down than the shirt did, yet it had only a single hole. How was this supposed to be worn? From her torso? She recalled seeing some of the female scientists back at the facility wearing something similar.

The next piece, however, shook her completely. It was a pair of something, and as she held them up in front of her to inspect them closer, she came to realize that they were shaped like her feet, yet they were hollow inside.

Lastly was a pair of shoes, then something akin to a coat of sorts, one similar to the kind her father wore, but it was shorter and in a dark color. Unbuttoning her gown, Eve discarded it on the floor and began to pull the shirt over her. It was cold, but she was already well-acquainted with the sensation to cause any reaction from her body. After she had put it on, she continued with the other long fabric she had found. After placing it down on the floor and stepping into the hole, she pulled it up until it was tightly wrapped around her torso. True enough, it was supposed to be worn like the female scientists, yet this one was much longer than theirs had been, as it reached the brink of her ankles. After that, she tried the feet-shaped garments. Like before, what she had initially assumed was proven correctly and they fit on her feet like gloves did to hands.

Afterwards, she pulled on the coat and put on the shoes. She instantly felt warmer than she had earlier and it felt somewhat comfortable to be able to wear something like that, yet she said nothing as she reached for the door handle, but then she paused. This didn't feel right. Looking down at the binds still around her wrists, she came to the conclusion that she was genuinely beginning to behave docile towards her captors. They had rendered her incapable of fighting back, and the last time she attempted to do so, she had experienced an immense pain shooting through her body. That alone had been nothing compared to what she had experienced in the past, but it was a feeling she would rather not wish to feel again. She had to keep going if she wished to ever be reunited with her father. That was her only reason for staying alive. He was her only reason for staying alive. Without him, she was expendable.

Eve opened the door and found Steven Rogers standing there, waiting patiently for her to accompany him. "Ready to leave?" he asked.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"To Tony."

* * *

This truly was no longer home.

This was the outside world, the one she had been prohibited from seeing. People, animals in leashes, buildings, everything flashed before her eyes as soon as she and Steven Rogers sat down inside the vehicle and it began to move. Everything felt so much larger now as if the world she once knew had been expanded tremendously, reaching for as far as her eyes could reach.

She sat there with her face against the window whereas Steve just watched her with a chuckle. It was almost sad how someone beyond such an age as hers had been deprived of the rest of the world, isolated and alone. He had been so for over seventy years but not because of someone else's choices but his own, yet this girl had been deprived of it all because she was valuable not as a human being, but as a specimen to appease the curiosity of Hydra.

Eve sat like that until they finally reached a building which said STARK on the outside and stepped out of the car. It was probably the largest building she had ever seen, as it stood superior over all of the others in the area. Uncertainly, she looked around with both skeptical and a bewildered eyes, but as soon as she found Steven Rogers standing next to her, she felt slightly more at ease about being susceptible towards potential enemies arriving. After all, she was already surrounded by her father's most hated ones.

Together, they stepped inside the building and took an elevator up, spending several minutes inside it before the doors opened to reveal a highly-advanced floor with technology similar, if not almost identical, to the kind Hydra had. However, these pieces of work felt more accustomed to the outside world like people were just using them for frivolous purposes only. It felt meaningless, but then again, what did she know? All she could think about was the scenery which laid beyond the grand windows at the back of the place. The rest was something she hardly could name, let alone know what kind of value they held.

However, before she as much as moved, Tony Stark came into view from the staircase above then and descended down to hers and Steven Rogers' floor, looking sharply at them both as if expecting either of them to do something which would without a doubt warrant hostility in return. "You didn't waste any time," he said, looking at Steven Rogers this time. "It's not even twelve o'clock and you called me at eight. When you said soon, I didn't think that you meant at dawn break. You weren't exaggerating."

"I'm a morning person," said Steven Rogers relaxed. "Besides, I thought you could use the wake-up. A morning to a productive day, wouldn't you agree, Tony?"

"Hmmm," he looked over at Eve as if having first acknowledged her presence then and there and gestured for her to follow him. "This way, kid. I'll show you to your room." When she didn't move at first, Steven Rogers nudged her in the shoulder and gestured for her to go along with him. Like before, she didn't move an inch, but slowly began to make her way towards Tony Stark and followed him up the staircase.

"Excuse Cap's fashion-sense. Don't take it personally." Said Stark, glancing over his shoulder as they headed down a corridor above the staircase, filled with several doors which lead to places that she didn't know contained. There was a room, however, just above the first floor which she noticed. The walls were transparent and thus she was perfectly capable of seeing through them. Inside there stood a man with a white coat, similar to the kind the scientists used to wear, and around him were all these… tools and mechanical pieces. One of those things included…. The scepter her father had been interested in.

When he heard her stop walking, Tony turned around and said, "Come on, kid. We can't linger around all day."

"That scepter," she spoke hollowly, not turning her eyes away. "You took it."

Tony didn't say anything else for the entire trip down the corridor until he stopped in front of one of the doors and opened them up, gesturing for her to enter. When she did, Eve found herself standing in a room that had been adorned with all kinds of things she had never as much as placed her eyes on in the past. One of the walls, the entire wall, was a window to the outside the world, and that alone caused her to remain oblivious to all else in the room.

"Glad to see that you like it," Stark said. "Just don't break anything or I'll put it on your bill, young lady."

She didn't say anything and continued to marvel at the sight of the entire city in front of her, beneath her actually.

Could it be true that the world was so… Beautiful?"


	9. Chapter 9: Losing Without Gaining

**Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers**

 **Warning: Avengers AU, Alive!Pietro AU, Neutral Loki!AU, Neutral!Ultron AU**

* * *

 **Chapter 9: Losing without gaining**

* * *

The fact that she even opened her eyes to begin with concluded Steve's initial theory about her senses having been maxed out prior to her arrival. Having developed a proneness towards sneaking up on things or people after having spent some training sessions with Natasha, it had naturally grown on him like fungus on a tree and on more than on occasion had the ability proved useful in most cases. Although he was not a spy, being unseen and unheard granted him advantages against foes that would be better off not knowing he was ever within their radar to begin with.

However, when he stepped into her room only a few moments earlier for the purpose of observing whether or not she was still in a docile state, he was surprised to find her asleep. The fact that she was asleep in itself didn't surprise him, as even the most well-trained individuals required rest in order to function properly in combat (though he did doubt that she was often granted the necessary quantity of rest). However, it was the sight of her lying unconscious on top of the floorboards that had him unnerved.

Eve's figure was curled up on the side of the bed (quite literally), with her arms serving as pillows beneath her face and her feet pulled up to accommodate. Her hair covered parts of her face and it was hard to imagine anyone being even remotely willing to do such, especially considering how there was a perfectly-suited bed in the room intended for the purpose of sleep. Steve could hardly feel any warmth in the room and chills went up his exposed forearms and through the fabric of his shirt. The prospect of sleeping within the confinement of such a cold-tempered room didn't strike him as the ideal way of earning one's rest, but to his disgust, he didn't think she was a stranger to the experience.

He let out a sigh and swore he could watch his breath escape his lungs in the form of white-colored smoke. The darkness in the room which was reflected from the exterior of the windows didn't aid him much as he quietly stepped into the room and reached for the untouched covers on top of the bed, but it wasn't what became his ultimate ordeal. Even though no sound had escaped his light steps, Eve's eyes snapped open and immediately fell on his hovering figure. Her face was empty of any noticeable change but looking at her watching him so intently caused his stomach to drop a few inches.

Slowly, he opened his mouth to pronounce an explanation, but before he could even mutter a letter, there was the sound of something shifting in the room with great velocity and the next thing he knew, Eve was on the other side of the room, crouched down in front of the closet with her left hand pressed to the floor and her eyes still glued onto him. Her behavior resembled that of an animal more than it did a human, though Steve had personally been the witness of several people who seemed to have forgotten their humanity some time ago. She appeared like a predator where she was, silently waiting for the moment to strike her prey and claim the flesh she had been pursuing.

But her eyes were dead. Dead as…. Bucky's had been that time.

Had he been Tony, Steve would have done something that would have done little but increases her mistrust towards them, but he wasn't. Instead, he lowered his shoulder and stayed put. "You'll get sick sleeping on the floor like that." He explained but earned no reaction from her. He continued, gesturing for the bed without breaking the eye-contact he had established with her. "If you don't like it, we can have it changed into something more to your preference." He scratched the back of his head as he attempted to come up with an example of what he was insinuating. "A… bunkbed or something, if you like."

There was a moment of absolute silence. Although he initially assumed that she had simply brushed off his suggestion with either lack of comprehension or something akin to indifference, he was surprised to hear the choice of words she had elected for herself. "I do not understand that term." She said, looking no less emotionless than before, though it seemed like her distinctive alertness had succumbed slightly and replaced with curiosity. "What is the definition of a 'bunkbed'?"

For someone so seemingly dangerous that she has to be supervised so intently, her inquisitiveness seemed to exceed that of a child significantly younger than herself, Steve thought worrisomely. He placed a hand under his chin and tried to find the suitable explanation that would make it simpler for her to understand the concept behind the functions of a bunkbed, which is something he never imagined he would have to explain for someone who exceeded the age of a preteen, much less anyone who classified within the category of an adolescent. "A bunkbed is…. A bed that is on a higher level than the floor and is usually supported by four pillars, often making room for another bed beneath."

"Of which use is it relevant for me?" she asked.

"Well… some people think that sleeping on a higher point is more comfortable." Steve explained. "Kids usually your age seems to find them quite practical these days. As for me, my family could never afford it no matter how many times I asked them." A laugh escaped him as he recollected memories of his own childhood, unknowingly discussing past matters such as those with someone who didn't seem like they had much of the same luxury whilst growing up. Knowing that had him tone down and he sighed, not quite certain about how to handle the situation without warranting anything that could have potentially devastating consequences.

"Look, Eve," he began slowly, debating whether or not to make the effort to take a step her way, but it ended with him disagreeing on the idea. "As a person, there are certain requirements you are expected to make on your own without the aid of somebody else. Sleeping is one of them, and one of the most crucial ones next to eating."

"I've been trained to grow accustomed to the minimal required need for sustenance and rest. As long as I can function properly without having my physical state interfere with my objectives, Father is content."

Steve wished to bite back with some kind of remark about how foolish it was to follow the ideals of someone like Jeraslovik, but he possessed enough control to make it turn into a less direct statement. "The way your father is telling you to live sounds more like a way to punish yourself." He said. "If you continue to follow his orders and deny yourself your rights as a human being, you will die."

"If I am ordered to, then I will." The way those words so casually left her had Steve lose his voice in the search for the appropriate words. He was not accustomed to telling people that their lifelong ideals would be the end of them eventually, and he most certainly did not know how to react to something spoken as unconcernedly even though the morbid meanings behind them were easily distinguishable from the exterior perspective. "I am expendable if I cannot fulfill Father's objectives. If that is to occur, if I am to lose my current worth, then I should be discarded."

His fingers clenched, and his teeth gritted beneath his lips, but he didn't utter a single world in retaliation of what she had just said. The silence didn't last for long, however, and he soon found it more difficult to try and make up a sentence that wouldn't lackadaisically clash against anything she stated. "Your life is worth living even if he isn't in it."

"My existence is dependent on Father." She said, monotonous as it had always been. Just like a doll. "If there is no longer any need for me to exist, then I should be discarded. Father's absence will be equivalent to my lack of purpose. Therefore, I will annihilate you all as to make myself more useful to him."

* * *

It was hard not to find it bothersome, but even harder not to find it obnoxious to the point where Tony wanted to throw his electronic device (one he had recently developed out of boredom) at the captain as he came strolling into his lab without any warning or any regard towards formalities or consideration towards whether or not he was occupied himself, which was ironic considering Steve's habit of babying his team like a mother hen.

"And to what pleasure do I owe this unwarranted visit at precisely eleven pm?" he asked sarcastically, not even bothering to look up from the device in his hands. "Are we here to discuss your little experiment? How's the altruism affecting her? Has she been taught the words 'please' and 'thank you' yet? Did she save a kitten from falling from a tree?"

"This isn't funny, Tony!" Steve all but barked, sending a sensation of surprise lingering within the Iron Man's form, which was something that rarely struck him, much less from Steve of all people. After a moment of silence, accompanied with the sound of the captain plopping down on the couch in the room, Tony finally let go of his device and mustered the will to turn around and look at him from his side of the room, all traces of frivolity or nonchalance gone from his features.

He opened his mouth. "Look, I told you it wouldn't be-"

"Yeah, I heard you the first time!" Steve snapped, his hands hanging over his face with an aura of exasperation accommodated with exhaustion. "But that's not the point, alright? It's hard, but I'm not going to give up. She's just a kid!"

That was the straw that plucked Tony's hair and caused him to lose his composure. "Yes, a kid! A kid who's been taught all her life to do nothing but kill and slaughter everything and everyone around her!" He threw his arms out with agitation. "You can't fix something that's already broken! Give it up and I'll have her relocated someplace where she isn't a constant risk."

This time, it was Steve's turn to become aggressive, although it wasn't to a physical point. He sat up on the couch, shoulders sagged, looking closer to the age he was supposed to be. "This isn't the point, Tony. You're not thinking of her as a human being. You're thinking of her as a weapon, which I've observed isn't far too away from the same mindset HYDRA had for her."

"And you're comparing her way too much with your old friend, Barnes."

" _Don't_."

"It's the truth." Stark got up to his feet and discarded the device in his hands, taking a few steps towards his companion before pausing. "You're viewing her just like Barnes, a brainwashed puppet who is still capable of thinking for themselves. But there's a distinctive difference between Eve and Barnes, and that is that whereas Bucky was not born into Hydra, she was, and that makes her more dangerous. She doesn't know how to differentiate good from bad, much less how to feel. She's far too gone and from my perspective, it will be easier to just have her succumb to her wounds and decrease the risk of her causing some sort of Armageddon."

This had Rogers sink back into his seat, breathing shallow, and thoughts disarray. Even so, the determination that had kept him going all those years, even when he was on ice, did not slip him as much as Stark had intended. "Letting her die, Tony, will not make us much better than HYDRA and you know that. We are supposed to be different from them, different from SHIELD. A weaponized human or not, she doesn't deserve to know death without having experienced life."

"Aren't we philosophic now?" Stark hummed and let out a sigh, walking aimlessly around the room as though the answer to this current ordeal would be written someplace on the walls. There were none, however, and he remained uncertain of what to do. "You're lucky I'm not Fury, he wouldn't have been as diplomatic in a situation like this… but I'm willing to let you continue to have her oblige to the circumstances, at least temporarily. However, the consequences of your lack of progress remain. You fail, and I'll have her relocated without your consent or not." He swiftly turned around, inclining his face towards his friend. "Got it?"


	10. Chapter 10: Monster Made Of Men

**Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers**

 **Warning: Avengers AU, Alive!Pietro AU, Neutral Loki!AU, Neutral!Ultron AU**

 _ **a/n: Just to clarify for further references; what "Eve" currently displays towards Jeraslovik can be identified as some sort of twisted Stockholm Syndrome. Due to having been raised to believe nothing else than his words and his orders, she is completely oblivious to the fact that his treatment towards her and the virtues he has taught her are beyond monstrous, to put it mildly. She doesn't wish to get back to him because she's thinking: "He's cruel, but he loves me, so I'll return to him." or anything like that. She genuinely doesn't understand anything else. His "love", or lack thereof, has been the only thing she's been able to understand for all her life, and therefore thinks she's worthless without him.**_

 _ **Also, I'll clear up that she understands the basic of humans and society, but not in depth like someone whose lives have been surrounded by the world would understand. She is literate, she understands a list of language, she knows of a limited range of colors (more than mentioned in an earlier chapter due to that being in the past), and she knows the definition of words and purpose of certain objects. However, she does not understand, in-depth: emotions (she can express them and feel them, but not understand them with words), objects that are solely for the benefit of enjoyment and pleasure rather than for necessity, and social norms/rules of decency (like the discomfort associated with nudity).**_

 _ **Wilhelm Jeraslovik, as you might have understood, is everything but sane. He possesses a twisted-beyond-intelligible God-complex, which is fueled by his determination to both make use of himself and perfect what he deems dissatisfying about the human race and the world itself. This chapter highlights this from a more sinister perspective, to which I wish to warn you will be quite explicit. You have been warned.**_

 _ **More information will come in the later chapters. I apologize if there ends up being any confusion or statements which clashes with one another. I tend to be rather forgetful about such. If there are, please make note of it and I'll have it corrected shortly.**_

 _ **Thank you for your attention and please enjoy.**_

* * *

 **Chapter 10: Monster made of Men**

* * *

Ever since the moment he first escaped his wretched mother's womb, Wilhelm Jeraslovik's mind had been preoccupied with little else other than the determination to make his name become synonymous with "genius". His father had always told him that if he failed to do anything less, he would become little more than a waste of space; an expendable object whose worth could be deemed useless unless he succeeded to make it worth something.

He pondered reminiscently on this as he sat there in the cell, watching a few droplets of water descend from the humid ceiling to the floor beneath. His current location was less than the ideal sort he would have preferred in terms of containment, but beggars could not be choosers. After all, he doubted that they would be able to keep him there for much longer now. It had been some time since he had first been put there – a few weeks or so at most, he wasn't quite certain – but it was nothing he would be incapable of managing for a little while longer. It wasn't like he was being tortured or subjected to inhuman treatment for information like they did during the Cold War or wars in general. These humans – his captors – found such qualities within themselves distasteful and would, therefore, suppress them in order to portray themselves as being "better" than the likes of which Wilhelm himself was categorized as:

 _" **Monsters".**_

His lips twisted into an inhumane grin as he heard that word echo in his mind. It was all too ironic for him to keep a straight face as he thought about the dramatic effect which lingered in that designation. It was the same name his mother had called him upon discovering his collection of animal bones in the closet when he was six. It was the same name his classmates had used to describe him whenever they spotted him mangle an animal's cadaver in the schoolyard in an attempt to figure out the function of its organs. It was the very same word his coworker Nathalia had called him upon deeming the work he subjected his daughter towards as "atrocious". It was the same name the scarlet bitch had called him as she interfered when he was about….

Cold sweat began to run down his skin upon recalling everything that had happened to him throughout his life, and everything he predicted would occur sooner or later. All the names that had been thrown at him in the past echoed through his cranium like voices in a tunnel. Why had they all called him such vicious things? Wilhelm had never truly grasped what kinds of reasons could justify such strong reactions. He had never done anything wrong in his life; all he had ever wanted to do was to make his limited existence beneficial to the human race, even if they didn't deserve it. He had always possessed an affinity towards animals and would never hurt them in any way. He had never subjected his _preciouspreciousprecious_ daughter to any abuse in her life. He had never hurt her. He never would.

 _ **He loved her.**_

 _ **He loved her sososososososososoooooooo much!**_

 _ **HELOVEDFEELINGHERSKINBENATHHISFINGERSANDHERSUBMISSIONTOHIMHELOVEDTHEWAYHERBODYACTEDASHEWOULDLOVEHERANDHOWSHEWOULDALWAYSFOLLOWHISWORDSJUSTSOTHATHECOULDEXPERIENCETHESAMELOVEHESHOWEDHERSHEWOULDNEVERCRYANDTHEWAYSHELOOKEDATHIMWASABSOLUTELY–**_

 _BANG!_ He slammed the back of his head against the wall behind him and quickly felt the warm blood erupt from beneath his skin on impact with the cold barrier. His nerves were running amok like ants working nonstop inside their hive; a hive which contained more genius than the world could handle. More than it DESERVED to have at all. Short-drawn and quickened breaths were inhaled and exhaled on unpredictable intervals, and he struggled not to lose consciousness then and there as his breathing-pattern failed to exceed the amount of oxygen which was required for him to function properly. Black spots circled his vision and he could feel the phantom needles pierce the exterior of his finger palms.

The need to find _her_ struck him like a whip to his bare flesh. It had been too long without his _precious doll_! He had to be there with her! The world was a cruel place and without him there, she would be lost! She would cease to function completely! If she ceased to do so, she would become _expendable_! The same kind of designation he loathed hearing from his father! He would not allow her to become such a disgusting cretin! He would not allow those filthy humans to corrupt her mind and turn her against him, making her fail to be of any use anymore! Cease to be of use to him! Cease to be of use for the human race he wished to perfect!

 **HE WAS THEIR** _ **GOD**_ **, FOR FUCK'S SAKE! SHE WAS THEIR EVE! HE NEEDED HER!**

The pace of his pulse began to quicken a mile per second, making the rapid movements he committed whilst sitting there in that unbearable position seem like those belonging to an uncontainable beast about to break free from its captivity at anymoment. _Those fucking humans_ …... _**HE**_ _**WOULD SEE THEM ALL BREAK! HE WOULD WATCH THEM SQUIRM IN THEIR OWN BLOOD! HE WOULD STRIP THEM OF EVERYTHING WHICH THEY HELD DEAR! HEWOULDNEVERBLINKIFITMEANTLOSINGAMOMENTWATCHINGTHEMSLOWLYDIE!**_

"BASTARDS!" he shouted, clinging the tips of his fingers into his scalp, penetrating his skin beneath his hear. "YOU'RE ALL FUCKING BASTARDS! YOU'LL DIE, AND I'LL BE THERE WATCHING YOU WHEN YOU DO!"

Even if all he needed was to be patient, the screams that escaped his cell from the depths of his throat proved that it was a quality he was seldom possessing as of lately. All because of those wretched humans. Well, soon enough, the Flood would sweep by, leaving nothing more than disarray and destruction in its wake. He would make sure of it.

* * *

Each of her fingers ached as she attempted to pry the right wristband off of her, feeling the metal almost grind itself through her skin due to the pressure she was deliberately inflicting on herself as she continued. Having already experienced much more severe penetration to her skin in the past, both internally and externally, she barely paid any notice of the few droplets of blood that had escaped the blisters which had formed beneath her palms.

However, much to her disappointment, her physical prowess proved itself inferior and she finally let go, taking a shallow breath as the friction ceased from her hands. Her blood throbbed beneath her skin and produced a sensation akin to having something repeatedly press into them. Despite her increasing frustration, she refused to bend to the lack of physical competence. Less than a moment later, as if on instinct, she continued with the last remnants of her strength to try to make an effort. This time, however, she would not move a muscle.

Holding her breath for a brief moment, she put all her mind into her chest and exhaled. She could feel the spark within her chest ignite with heat in a moment's notice, striking her with a sense of power she had seldom been able to feel as of recently. She could feel the pulse in her appendages pump on interval, note the change in her irises as she opened her eyes and allowed the circumstances to become apparent to her with much more clarity now, endure the heat resonating through her body as she prepared to warrant her ultimate strength and finally break free from the bonds of captivity which had claimed her, and find her father.

But that feeling only lasted for a second or so before something else took its place.

Bright red lights began to flicker from certain spots on top of the surface of the wristbands, followed shortly by the sensation of sharp stings on top of her skin to which they were primarily attached. Her hands became paralyzed as her senses came to acknowledge the shockwaves that began to resonate through her entire being, and she could feel the powerful warmth in her chest discard her and become replaced with something she recognized as similar – if not entirely akin – to a feeling she had undergone on numerous occasions back at _home_ ; usually as a direct result of her rare – but not non-existent – displays of failure in the presence of her father.

 _Fear._

The waves that rang through her skin were hardly noticeable at first, making comparing them to the ones she had previously experienced back at Hydra seem like comparing knives with needles marks. Having already endured those ordeals on both separate and simultaneous occasions, she imagined that withstanding it would be relatively simplistic in terms of withstanding the brief agony.

That was, however, before volts began to increase themselves drastically on short notice, which caused all of the nerves that coursed through her body to erupt and become disoriented. Her fingers began to twitch uncontrollably and she could feel the metal burn against her the skin, leaving behind a surprisingly cold feeling she had only felt from the likes of ice. Her heartbeats were increasingly pumping within her chest to a seemingly unbearable point and she struggled to keep her composure intact as her body began to give in to what that was enfolding her physical being. Her knees folded beneath her and her arms wrapped themselves instinctively around her frame as though it would keep the aching away.

More lights began to flicker from the wristbands and started to ignite sparks to accommodate them on the exterior, like wires having been cut whilst their source of power remained active. It began to scorch her further, more than she thought was possible at this point. Saliva ran down her lips and her bones felt like they were internally shattering. Her back, her chest, her abdomen, her appendages; none of them were the liberty of any mercy. Everything _hurt_. It hurt like she was being incarcerated in a furnace whilst still alive. It was weakening her more now than ever before and admitting that fact pained her more than the wristbands currently did altogether.

Then, something more arrived just in time for her to officially consider it excruciating. She could feel panic begin to surge through her as the sound of approaching several pairs of footsteps became audible on the other side of the door, prompting her to assume that her attempt at defying their protocols had been taken into notice and she would now have to suffer the consequences of her disobedience, forcing her to make a decision based on impulse rather than strategic maneuvering like she usually did.

The option placed before her were hardly considered preferable; either get taken away to someplace where the probability of her ever getting back to her father's location would become severely lower than it currently was, or…

 _ **Try and get out of there now.**_


	11. Chapter 11: Chrysalis

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers**

 **Warning: Avengers AU, Alive!Pietro AU, Neutral Loki!AU, Neutral!Ultron AU**

 **Warning: Explicit content, violence, and blood. You have been warned.**

* * *

 **Chapter 11: Chrysalis**

* * *

 _"Each night, when I go to sleep, I die. And the next morning, when I wake up, I am reborth."_  
 _\- Mahatma Ghandi._

* * *

The project was proving itself more demanding than what they had initially predicted. Tony had spent restless days and nights accompanied by Bruce in an attempt to get it to function properly. But for each time their tests failed, they grew less and less confident in the probability of it actually working. A suit of armor around the world would require a lot of planning and a lot of further testing in order to ensure that it would be bulletproof, but the schematics extended beyond predictability.

"I'm starting to doubt our chances, Tony." Bruce commented as he ran another set of diagnostics, all of which resulted with the same negative and dissatisfying results. "What if we can't do it, not because of our lack of competence, but because it simply is impossible?"

Tony hardly looked at him as he continued to compare the recent diagnostics with the previous ones, attempting to search for some kind of compatible common ground that would have at least a few traits of progress. "They said that it would be impossible for a man to survive years under ice, yet he's currently breathing and walking as we speak." He proceeded to place the notes down at the table and preoccupy his grip with a cup of coffee mixed with bourbon instead. It had the familiar bitter aftertaste he recalled reeking of his father on more than a few occasions during his childhood, but he could care less about that in the present. "We just have to give it a bit of time."

"It's been weeks and we're no closer to completing the program than we were when we first set ourselves to the task." Bruce placed himself down on the floor with a sigh escaping him, rubbing his forehead with the sleeve of his coat in frustration. He was too tired to even come up with a scientific argument that would support his theory of eventual failure other than what was already established.

He pulled off his glances and cast a look towards the Scepter, which was on display behind a protective forcefield less than ten feet away from him in the same room. The sight of it unnerved him, especially considering what had happened to Clint after it had made physical contact with him. Physical contact with an immense source of power such as that was… incredulous enough to be considered possible.

He looked away from it and looked back at Tony, although the latter had his attention currently fixated on something else again. "If we manage to complete Ultron, what will be Its first objective?"

"The moment we begin making progress will be the moment I will start planning that." Stark responded with, keeping his words limited as he was too preoccupied with other work than to worry about the gift of speech. "Worry about dressing for the party meanwhile. I'm sure Nat would like to see you in a tuxedo."

" _Sir,"_ Jarvis' voice suddenly came to their notice, though it was still not enough reason for Tony to stop with his work. _"You have a visitor in the lounge. Miss Romanoff is requesting Dr Banner's presence."_

Speaking of which, Bruce's eyes went wide with curiosity and he opened his mouth to respond with an affirmative answer. Before he could, Tony beat him to it with a dismissive one. "Yeah, decline her request and inform her of our busy schedule, but invite her to take whatever she wants from the bar. I've just imported a wide range of Romanian liquor in the bar I think she'll enjoy. Just tell her not to drink it all. We need it for the party on Sunday."

" _Sir, she's insisting that her request will be attended to. She says it's quite urgent and that she's been told to deliver a message from Agent Hill regarding the prisoners currently in the custody of NATO."_ Jarvis countered persistently, though the monotonous voice did nothing to imply such an attitude.

Getting up to his feet again, Bruce inclined his head to his friend as he heard this. "Tony, we should answer that. Sounds crucial, doesn't it?"

"For which one of us?" Tony asked sheepishly, looking at him for the first time in a long one with a tilted head and an innocent look. Certain that this was used as a way to tease him regarding his current relationship with Natasha, a twitching smile appeared on the doctor's lips and he prepared to answer.

But something interrupted him again, but not Stark this time.

 _BEEP, BEEP, BEEP….!_

The loud sound of an alarm going off had both men switch their attention from their project and to the lights in the room that had begun to flicker with red, heavily indicating that something was amiss that wasn't supposed to be. Tony, despite his sleep-deprived state, instantly went to a wary mode and checked the security system displayed on a hologram in front of him, but his patience ran quick. "Jarvis, what's going on?"

" _It would seem that something has triggered the defensive mechanisms on Miss Eve's restraints. I would advise you to consider checking in with her to ensure that there are no complications."_

"Yeah, you don't say. Is she still here?" Tony demanded, visibly alarmed.

" _The location of the restraints' locators has not changed over the course of the last thirty-six hours."_

"Good. Tell Nat to follow us when she sees us. We might need her help on this."

" _Acknowledged."_

Without wasting a split second, Tony almost knocked his cup down from the table as he turned around and began to make his way out of the lab, much to the confusion and surprise of doctor Banner. However, he quickly followed behind Stark and didn't waste a breath keeping up with his pace. Although he was rather disturbed as he watched the gear around Tony's wrist transform into the iron gauntlet, indicating that this was a cause of immediate reaction which he didn't like the sound of.

"What's really going on?"

" _She's_ happening." Tony replied sternly, not slowing down or even looking at him as they crossed the floor across the lounge just in time to watch Natasha accompany them up the stairs and catch up with them. Just after inclining her head to Bruce, to which he returned the gesture, she too became aware of the sudden distress that had captivated the usually-casual Stark.

"That's not looking too good." She commented, a gun already in hand from somewhere, which Bruce didn't doubt was a part of her choice of usual wardrobe. It would be unusual for her to walk around without some kind of weapon at her disposal. She wasn't regarded as the world's top spy and assassin for no reason. "Jarvis said that there might be something severe going on. Do I even want to know?" Despite her sarcastic undertone, she didn't seem any less alarmed than the rest of them.

"She must have activated the retributory response mechanism. It could only have happened if she tried to counter them with her voodoo-hoodoo." Tony answered quickly, though it sounded like he was talking more to himself than anyone else. Although this caused Bruce to feel slightly off-place considering how he was not adept, nor in the possession, of any weapons whatsoever (other than the green giant currently residing within him), he was at the liberty of their protection unless they deemed the Hulk's presence mandatory for the situation at hand.

He really didn't want that to be the case unless it was unavoidable.

"Where the hell is Steve? Isn't he supposed to be the one babysitting-duty?" Tony growled just few feet away from the door their current suspect was being contained. For just in an instant, he swore he could watch blue lights flicker beneath the door from the inside of the room, but just as he reached for the handle, it vanished.

They unlocked the door and went inside, Natasha and Tony first with their weapons armed at whatever laid before them. The room was dark with no sign of any destruction or attempted escape. Nothing there seemed suspicious other than the lack of light and there were almost no trace of anyone having even stayed there in the first place. Looking over Nat's shoulder, Bruce was flabbergasted by the lack of any presence other than theirs inside the room. "Where is she?" he asked, expecting someone to come up with an answer.

Nat scanned her eyes over the entire perimeter, noting nothing and no one within her range of sight. "She can't have escaped, right?"

"No." Tony answered and took a couple of steps forth. "There's no way she could've done it. There are no escape routes here that wouldn't have set off some kind of alarm to warn us. I had the entire place heavily secured." He glanced over at the window, watching the city beneath from his height but noting no signs of scratches on the surface. "Jarvis, where does the location signal come from?" he asked aloud as both he and Nat stepped further into the room, leaving Bruce by the open door by himself as they ventured forward.

" _Dr Banner, there seems to be a –"_

Before anyone could predict the outcome and act quickly enough to prevent it from occurring in the first place, Bruce suddenly felt something assault him from behind, locking his throat in a choking hold which threatened to have him succumb to unconsciousness almost at once had it not been for his astounding endurance. His knees both buckled as something kicked them in with painful thrust, forcing him down on the floor.

A bright beam originating from Tony's gauntlet shot in the room and just barely missed Bruce's assaulter and himself with considerably few inches, hitting the wall behind them in the corridor and leaving behind a burnt mark in the tapestry. Bruce felt the pressure quickly leave his throat and he was granted oxygen, but there was no mistake that the beast within him felt triggered by this sense of danger.

The sound of sprinting footprints in the corridor caught his ears as his senses began to return to their original state, and he watched as Tony quickly rushed past him out the room and after his assaulter whilst Natasha spent a second aiding the doctor in getting him up on his feet again. "You alright?" she asked and patted him on the shoulder, but though the pressure had left a lingering agony on him, Bruce nodded assured and gestured for her to join Tony, which she did with barely a moment to waste.

The beast inside had calmed down but wasn't non-existent. He was merely waiting for the appropriate opportunity to strike.

* * *

She ran as fast as her legs could carry her, almost jumping for each step she took. The knowledge that she was being pursued by her captors didn't strike her as anything remotely surprising, but the determination to keep going was holding her captive and forcing her to deny her the benefit of pausing for even a mediocre second. Not that she could afford to do so anyway.

As she managed to exit the corridor and reach the stairs which lead down what seemed to some kind of commonplace like the one she had seen her father staying at on numerous occasions, "Eve" prepared to follow the steps down towards what seemed most likely like the exit out of there, but something hindered her before she had even reached the first step. A blue beam of light shot past her, missing her face by a few hair strands and forcing her to turn to look back into the direction of her pursuers in order to evaluate her chances of escaping.

Stark was quickly approaching, his arm outstretched with what appeared to be some kind of metal device attached to his palm. Following behind him was a woman, one she had never seen before but whose hair reminded her of the Red Woman she had seen in the past.

"Jarvis, disable all exits to the building!"

" _Acknowledged."_ A voice replied to the command of Stark. It sounded like a human male, but at the same time not. It sounded artificial, non-existent. There was no other male present with them other than Stark and the one whose life she had endangered earlier, but it didn't matter. Her options were limited as she watched what appeared to be magnetic-composed fields encircle the windows that displayed the same view to the outside world as the room she previously inhibited had. She evaluated that they would most likely not make her escape any less challenging.

As Stark shot another beam of light at her, she didn't manage to dodge this one just as quickly as she had dodged the previous one. It shot past her arm, shredding the fabric of her clothing and tearing into her skin to the point of shedding a considerable amount of blood. The pain was there but she kept her physical reaction to a minimum. She took a number of steps back in retreat and quickly glanced down at her debilitated appendage, watching as the red liquid poured out from the recently-created wound and soaked the cloth around it thoroughly. What surprised her the most was not the wound itself, but the fact that its healing process had not begun yet.

 _Why wasn't it?_

"Look, there's no way out of this one, kid." The red-haired woman sad warningly as she slowly approached her, pointing what seemed like a gun directly at her. She spoke more softly than Stark did, but the probability of her intentions being lesser than his was low. She took cautious steps towards her, to which "Eve" took steps back as well, holding her gash together as to lessen the bloodshed. The red-haired woman took note of this and proceeded, looking feeble. "If you cooperate, things will go easier for the both of us."

However, before the woman got the chance to properly confirm this statement of hers, "Eve" took off into the opposite direction, past the staircase and further into the other side of the hallway ahead. She felt the blood loss result in a severe decrease of strength in her body, but she couldn't stop. There had been a few times where she had felt her state weak like this, but this was the most inconvenient time for it to happen. She didn't relent but continued further. The sound of her enemies' weapons echoing closely behind her prompted her to disregard her wound put all her mind into reaching whatever route was ahead of her.

But she didn't get very far on that plan either before something suddenly caught her attention in the far end of the path which laid ahead of her. Then came the same artificial voice again from nowhere. _**"Summoning Iron Legion".**_

Not even three seconds later did she realize what those words were the definition of: More enemies located. Though she spotted some kind of open passageway further up, what blocked her went beyond something she had fought before, although she had seen something similar in the past. She forced herself to stop in her steps without a moment to reconsider her other choices, her eyes were positioned at her obstacles.

They were metal humanoids; A whole range of mechanic suits was blocking her path, all of which had their weapons aimed straight at her: everything from firearms to in-built electronic devices that were meant to bring more than a just a mediocre warning. Red dots fell on numerous spots on her body; her forehead, her chest, and everything in-between. She was trapped.

" _ **Any sudden movements will be met with force."**_ The words originated from one of the machines. It sounded like Stark's voice. _ **"Please stand still. We are here to help."**_

These were not humans, which meant that their fatal points were less widespread than those of an organic creation. If worse came to worse, she would have to use physical combat and tactics to win, but considering how feeble her limbs felt, this didn't seem like the appropriate moment. This would become significantly more complicated than she had predicted. If only she knew why her wounds weren't regenerating like they were supposed to…

 _Unless_ …

Her eyes had just barely trailed to her wrists as she heard her enemies finally reached her from behind. Given the circumstances, she did what her father had always taught her to when faced with adversaries; keep her facial expressions at a non-existent level so that it would make her actions less predictable in the eyes of her foes. Or better yet, deceive them with it.

She followed the former advice and she glanced over her shoulders as she watched as Stark, the red-haired woman, and the man with the lab coat catch up to her, although they stopped several feet away as to keep the distance at a comfortable range.

 _Options: Attack the enemies head-on.  
Potential result: Indeterminate._

"Are you finally done? If you are, now would be the time to finish it." Stark inquired exasperated, taking a cautious step with his weaponized hand outstretched towards her. She didn't move, nor did she flinch like most people in harm's way would consider doing. The lack of fear on her facial features, or lack of any emotion for that matter, made her actions unpredictable. Those were her intentions; catching the enemy off-guard always provided an advantage on her part.

She had almost forgotten the gash in her flesh, dripping with blood and descending to the floor. That alone provided with an opportunity because when she turned back to glance at Stark, his eyes were plastered on it as well and she observed as his weapon lowered just a few mediocre inches out of reluctance.

 _Empathy._ Humanity's most prominent weakness.

With no moment of hesitation, she slowly held her injured appendage up and displayed the wound, pulling away the fabric as to give her foe's a clearer view of the damage. Although feeling no significant ache herself anymore, it was evident that they did. She had never understood why some individuals experienced pain upon watching someone else exposed to physical maladies despite being in stable conditions themselves, but it wasn't of significant value unless it benefitted her. "I'm physical wounded." She stated blatantly. "Medical assistance is required."

"Yeah, that's what happens when you pull a stunt like that." Stark responded

"If I lose above forty percent of my blood quantity, the possibility of me becoming permanently incapacitated will increase." Of course, if she died, then she would simply regenerate again. However, considering how it seemed like her restraints were meddling with those abilities of hers, it would become problematic unless she somehow managed to get rid of them. But how would she….

 _Option: Direct confrontation.  
Potential result: Immediate and permanent incapacitation, or…._ _ **"Met with force"**_ _._

It was not a certain outcome, but a possible one. Losing one or two of her appendages had never had any lasting effects on her, as they would always come back after she woke up from the darkness. "A miracle", her father had called it. The ability to withstand death demonstrated something he addressed as "divinity", and although she was not too knowledgeable in terms of such phrases, she understood that it expressed something which pleased him.

 _She_ pleased him.

Taking her silence as an affirmative answer to his terms, Stark opened his mouth to speak but shut it immediately as he watched her suddenly throw her injured arm up in the air. Alarms went through him at the sight of this and he froze. When nothing happened, however, he became uncertain about her intentions at first. But he soon came to the startling realization of what it was that was going on and disbelief washed over him as the Iron Legion's acknowledged this.

" _ **Anomality detected. Engaging offensive mode."**_

The sudden movements of her appendages caught the humanoids' attention, activating their sensory-based defenses like she anticipated they would. No fear was present within her as she accepted what was about to happen, but as she heard the humanoids about to respond and their weapons about to charge, she spotted for just a split second what seemed like reluctance spawning on Stark's face.

Just like the Red Woman had done so long ago.

 ** _"My child," she heard her father say as he placed a solid hand on her shoulder. "I'm so_ _proud of you."_**

* * *

Tony's eyes widened as he watched the Iron Legion prepare themselves, but with her still standing there. Unfortunately, he did not get much time to register it entirely. "Hey, what are you – GET DOWN!"

Just as he had shouted out that command, thousands of bullets encircled the area before he could even finish his sentence properly. Falling to his stomach, he covered his head and tried his best not to lose a body part or two in the process. He admitted on his part that this was probably not the greatest idea he could've come up with, but upon feeling his flesh still attached to him and his companions alive behind him, albeit not too keen about the change in the ordeal, he couldn't complain too much.

But nothing prepared him for the sight which met him as he dared to take a peek to see what was going on up ahead of him. Despite having witnessed countless people die in front of him, both enemies and allies alike, there were few things that could be compared to the view in front of him in terms of gore and nausea.

Blood splattered everywhere amongst other things. Eve stood where she had stopped only minutes earlier, but there was a significant change in her appearance now than before. Between dodging the bullets and trying not to get caught, Tony could make out how both her arms were held up like she was praying and her face was void of emotions as always. Pieces of her flesh were being shot right off, her arms were practically dissected where they were positioned; several of her fingers fell to the floor and Tony swore he could see bones coming into view as the meat was discarded from various pieces on her body.

There came a sickening sound in the midst of the bullet rain and something flew several feet from Eve before they landed inches away from Tony's position, forcing him to hold his mouth as he registered what it was. _It was her right arm_ , with the carpal bones and pieces of the severed Ulna peeking out from it. There wasn't much left of the fingers, prompting him to gag.

As he looked up again, forcing whatever his stomach contained to remain inside of him, he realized that the person whose right hand was currently dispatched from the rest of her didn't seem like she paid it any notice at all. No matter how much dismemberment she endured where she stood in the middle of the crossfire, no matter how much blood was shed, or how more she seemed like a cadaver where she stood, she was still in the same position; blood pouring out of her and soaking the floor, empty bullet-shells were accommodating the red fluids and holes were piercing through her clothes and body. Still, she wasn't even making a sound even as she finally lost her stance and fell to the floor, not moving anymore as she had seemingly finally been claimed by death.

It didn't make any sense to him. How could she withstand such … torture for so long before finally succumbing to her fate? More important, what was she even trying to obtain by committing suicide? If she truly wanted to die, she would have done so long ago with much less bloodshed. The question continued to plague his head and he tried to come up with some sort of plausible explanation, but none hit him.

Finally, he reached for his gauntlet and ordered the Iron Legion to stop. "IRON LEGION, CEASE YOUR ATTACK AND DEACTIVATE NOW!"

The bullets stopped and the noises disappeared at once, as if time had frozen at his command. The Iron Legion stood still and didn't move. Panting and emptied almost entirely of breath, Tony waited a couple of seconds before he deemed it safe to get up, but once he did, he wished he hadn't. The corpse of the girl laid there in a bed of blood and empty bullet shells, face down and her entire back looking as though she had just been dissected by something monstrous.

Bruce was at a loss of words as he regained his stance, his skin was pale and his eyes were wide with shock. "Oh my god." He uttered incoherently, evidently growing nauseous by the sight of the corpse placed in front of him. Whereas Nat approached it and seemed to handle the sight of such much easier, it would be deemed lying if someone claimed that she was managing it without any visible unease. Her lips curled into a slight frown and she avoided walking over the blood unless it was unavoidable. "This wasn't the way things were supposed to go, was it?" she asked softly, stopping as she reached the body of the girl and bent down as to inspect it properly.

Failing to contain his stomach any longer, Bruce covered his mouth and supported himself over the railing, putting every effort in not to vomit anything. He had watched death before but never like that before, and he regretted having done so now.

Tony wiped the sweat away from his forehead and let out a shaggy breath, experiencing remorse for the same girl whose life he stated earlier could end and it wouldn't have affected him in the slightest. But as he stood there, having just indirectly slaughtered her, he felt something tear at his chest, like maggots forcing their way through his skin and to the surface. "This wasn't what I…." He drew his hand over his face. "Jesus Christ." What was he supposed to tell Stev–

"Uhm…. Tony…."

As Nat's voice reached his ears, something caught his attention. Tony slowly turned around, acknowledging that something wasn't right, and then he saw it. The skin once dismantled on top of Eve's exposed back was …. _Moving_. Little by little, what was once a land of blood and exposed flesh and bones changed back to a field of newly-developed skin which seemed to grow like grass in a meadow.

Natasha stepped back several steps, eyes doubled in size and hands visibly shaking as she debated whether reaching for her weapon was the appropriate measure to take. Tony could hardly comprehend much of the situation himself; it wasn't often someone came back from the dead like that.

As all the visible placed which lacked skin had regenerated from their previous state, the body parts that were previously missing began to regrow. Where there previously were no hands, the bones that stuck out from the flesh began to regrow and attach themselves to each other like they were supposed to, followed shortly by flesh and skin that made it seem like something out a horror movie.

Only one sentence coursed through Tony's mind as he witnessed this defiance of human anatomy occur: _it couldn't be possible_. They all stood there, paralyzed and uncertain of what to do as they watched what was once a mangled corpse reanimate into its former state. Her limbs, once they were fully healed, snapped back into place one after the other, causing the sounds of snapping bones to echo in the air.

"Tony, this isn't…. What are we supposed to do?" Bruce asked from behind him, but Tony didn't change his focus even for a second.

"Keep your distance and your weapons aimed at all times."

"You don't say."

Eve's body began to stir and a gasp was heard coming from her, followed by her getting up, albeit unsteadily like a toddler taking its first steps. Her face came into view from behind her hair, looking as if nothing had happened to it in the first place. Her eyes were cold, like those of a doll, and her face remained unexpressive as always, but there was a certain streak of something belligerent hiding there. There was no blood to see on her facial features, but her clothes were stained and filled with holes that exposed the skin beneath.

 _This was, by no means, an ordinary human being._

"You see," Eve spoke quietly, not breaking the eye-contact she established with Tony. "I cannot be killed."

 _No human being at all._

She then proceeded to raise her harms up, both of them being whole with no lacking attributes or fingers whatsoever. At first, it seemed like she was inspecting them for something, inflicting concern to Tony as to what it could be. However, as his gaze followed hers, he understood what it was that was amiss about everything.

The restraints were no longer on her wrists. That was the reason she had deliberately put herself in the Iron Legion's path; to ensure that she lost them whilst losing her arms.

 _ **Not Human in the slightest.**_


	12. Chapter 12: Cold Men

**Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers.**

 **Warning:** **A** **lternative storylines/plot, Alive!Pietro, Neutral/Good! Loki, Neutral/Good!Ultron**

 **"Rebirth" has now an official blog, where I will be posting pictures and sneak peeks on the upcoming story parts.**

 **Url:** www . rebirth - fanfiction . tumblr . com

 **Password:** _Cyan_

* * *

 **Chapter 12: Cold Men**

* * *

 _"I'm not afraid of God. I am afraid of men."_  
 _\- Marina and the Diamonds, Savages_

* * *

To say that it was cold would be an underestimation, but it mattered not what kind of temperature the deity of weather had forced upon them.

Until recently, the chill climate had always served as a reminder of the dire circumstances of which Bogdan was currently embraced by, but now it had come to an abrupt stop.

The dire circumstances had lessened considerably over the course the last weeks, but they were no less existent now than they were then. The cold was now, in lack of better words, nothing less of a nuisance at the present moment.

He let out a breath and watched as the carbon dioxide dissolved into white smoke, as though he had just recently been smoking. Although he did not consider himself an addict to such indulgences, the sensation of polluted air entering his lungs was not an unfamiliar one.

"You're awfully quiet today. Why is that?" he asked, tilting his head to the side with confusion written over him, albeit subtly.

When no response was heard from the one whose answer he wished to hear, he sighed and rested his head on top of his hand. "You spoke so well yesterday, so what warranted your attention then? Was it me, or something else?"

Yet again, no response.

"I would really prefer it if you said something, Adam. It would make things so much easier."

"Sir? Who are you talking to?"

His head tilted boringly to the side and he watched his assistant enter, arm containing what looked like a notepad and eyes bare behind a pair of round glasses. In a way, she was an affectionate little thing, always concerning herself with his well-being as though it was hers to care for.

However, such concern could quickly become a nuisance as well.

He stood up from his seat and shook his head, dismissing her question. "No one, Andreea. No one at all."

"O-Oh," she uttered uncertainly as she stepped inside the facility, looking around the place with curious eyes. "I just thought I heard you speaking to someone just now."

"I was, but it was more for entertainment, really." he assured her, making sure that nothing in his tone which could convince her of otherwise. "Being here for so long with no one to have a casual conversation with tends to become …" He found himself at a loss for words as he searched for an appropriate term to use to describe the sensation he was currently experiencing.

"Frustrating?" Andreea suggested hopefully.

"Exactly." Bogdan agreed, finding the term fitting enough to his liking. "Frustrating."

"I understand what you mean, sir." She said softly, offering her sympathies for his affliction. "It tends to get lonely with so very few people around here these days, but I guess that's related to the fact that so many of the other facilities in Europe have been infiltrated by SHIELD by now."

"Yes," he verified, although not as particularly dispirited as one might have imagined. In truth, he was indifferent. "But this facility is not at susceptible to external penetration as the other ones."

He could spot the faintest of blush erupting on top of her cheeks as he said this, no doubt a result of the rather crude association she was connecting to his meaning. It was an amusing sight.

"But we've lost the majority of our contacts, so we are not likely to receive any information for a while, or at all. I imagine that it won't be too long now until we are met with a similar fate like the other facilities." He turned around to face the glass container behind him, the light illuminated like a star in the evening.

He had always admired what laid inside of it, though to a lesser extent than his brother. Whereas his brother would become maniacal upon acknowledging his creations, going as far as to deem them creations of the almighty Deity himself, Bogdan did not consider himself a believer of such nonsense.

 _God_. There was no such thing as God in a world of monsters and men. There was just the latter's compensation for things they could not comprehend, nor accept responsibility towards. Whenever something did not work in their favor, they would blame an imaginary creation to lessen their suffering.

Weak.

Bogdan stared at what lay within the container, eyes scrutinizing every inch of detail without pause and without missing a spot. He had observed its, or rather, _his_ features for several years now, but he was no less intrigued for each time.

"Do you really believe that we will be–"

"What are his readings currently?" he interrupted her.

"They are stable, although his neurologic readings have somewhat been more active now than they were twelve hours earlier." She explained tightly, voice shrouded with what could easily have been dismissed as wariness.

He pondered on that statement, eyes not moving away from what laid before him. "Is that so?" he asked, albeit not as curious as he meant to sound. "Why is that?"

"…The reasons are undecided," Andreea seemed to struggle to come up with a solid answer that could satisfy his inquiry. "But maybe … maybe it has something to do with _her_."

The woman's suggestion initially seemed strange, even absurd to a certain degree, but as Bogdan began to think about the possibilities he came to the conclusion that, perhaps, it was not too vivid after all.

His eyes traveled up to the closed ones belonging to the specimen in front of him. "You indicate that, perhaps, they have established some sort of connection?"

Andreea paused for a moment, shifting her weight on one leg onto the other. "I-It's just a thought, but maybe…."

Silence hung heavy in the moments that followed. A connection between them may have become possible, but it would be too soon to conclude anything for certain. He did not know of the specimen's current whereabouts, nor those of his brother's.

Bogdan let out a sigh and turned around from the view, glancing at his assistant with a smile creeping up on his features. "Do you believe in God, Andreea?"

She blinked. "Sir?"

"Well?"

She paused before she found the voice to answer. "A-As you know, I'm half Ukrainian, so my father introduced me to orthodox Christianity, but I was fonder of science than the word of an almighty being, although I keep it a habit to pray before eating my meals." She laughed a bit at the last part, and he couldn't quite blame her.

After all, it was rather funny.

"What about you, sir?" she proceeded to ask, curiosity overwhelming her.

"Our mother was a Catholic and tried to teach me and my brother the bliss of religion, even against the wishes of our father, who had more of an atheistic mindset. He always hated my name for being what it was, even if he didn't say it out loud." He chuckled as he recalled the memories of his father stubborn temper. "After she named me, father did not allow her to name my brother in similar manners, and therefore gave him a more … orthodox name."

"However, fortunately for dear pater, I was never one for divine worshipping. My brother, on the other hand, the one with the most ordinary name out of the two of us, became more of a believer than I could ever imagine. The irony was humorous. But as that faith kept interfering with his thinking, I grew exasperated."

He could see that his words made no sense whatsoever to his assistant, who seemed more confused now than ever before. Ignoring this, he jumped right to the point and turned around to gesture to the containment behind him. "These things are not of divine origins, which is what my brother always firmly believed. They were the essence of some deity; power personified, in his words. Because of their unique talents, he practically worshipped them, lost himself in this inexplicable faith. And because of his pride, he went as far as to use his own child."

"His own child?" Andreea inquired, seemingly puzzled before realization dawned upon her. "You mean that…. _That girl_ was actually…."

"Yes." He nodded solemnly, though not out of sentiment. "My brother had these morbid fascinations of his, believing that his blood would initiate the new era of human evolution. Quite an absurd way of thinking, which is why I never favored my mother's faith. But this seemed like an amalgamation between our father's and our mother's perspective thoughts."

He cast one last look at the specimen before he decided the appropriate measures to take. "We're going to relocate soon. Inform the others and have the specimen ready for transportation."

"Relocate? To where?"

"Somewhere warmer than here," he responded firmly, walking past her and towards the exit. "I can't really stand the cold."


	13. Chapter 13: The Black Abyss

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers**

 **Warning: Avengers AU, Alive!Pietro AU, Neutral Loki!AU, Neutral!Ultron AU**

 **Warning: Explicit content, violence, and blood. You have been warned.**

 **"Rebirth" has now an official blog, where I will be posting pictures and sneak peeks on the upcoming story parts.**

 **Url:** www . rebirth - fanfiction . tumblr . com

 **Password:** _Cyan_

* * *

 **Chapter 13: The Black Abyss**

* * *

 _"He who fights with monsters should look to it that he himself does not become a monster._  
 _And if you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you"_  
 _\- Friedrich_ Nietzsche

* * *

A deep abyss shrouded in darkness, not an ounce of light in sight. Her limbs felt detached from her body, numb and cold. Silence had deafened her, stolen her ability to hear, stripped her of her ability to pronounce words. Her mouth opened, desperate to relieve herself of the unbearable sound of nothing, but only for it to return and haunt her again.

Dying…

Such an indiscernible sensation.

Little was required to attain it. A bullet to the cranium or a needle through her chest with some kind of substance would be more than enough for her to be reunited with the cold she was experiencing now.

But this seemed … different. There were no words she could use to describe the odd feeling that accompanied this darkness, but there was something there that did not belong to it.

The ground beneath her, albeit shrouded in the same blackness as she, felt solid and unmoving. Even so, she looked at herself and noted that she was completely exposed. Her bare skin, covered with scars that proved her past mistakes, only further concluded that this was not some of subconscious vision she was having. She knew how to differentiate between such and being dead.

Dead…

"Welcome back, dear girl. How I have missed you."

That voice… That voice had her chest beat increasingly fast and her mind going swiftly. She looked up from herself, and only a few feet away from her, she saw her father standing there. He was, on the contrary of herself, still wearing those same white clothes she often saw him wearing back then. His glasses were clean and neatly placed, like they always were, and his hair remained the same.

It took her a couple of seconds to process the sight of him, as she was beginning to doubt this was truly real or otherwise. Perhaps this was a subconscious vision she was having after all, and seeing him there was not –

Unable to contain herself regardless of what was real, she quickly got up and started running towards him. A sense of joy filled her stomach and her entire body along with it. Their distance grew shorter by each step she took. It was not until she wrapped her arms completely around him that she stopped running and started breathing again. She could feel the soft fabric beneath her fingers as her hands locked together behind him.

"My dear, it has been so long." He said blissfully and placed both of his arms around her, returning the embrace. He didn't feel warm.

She wished to indulge in this happiness and save every moment of it. However, something was plaguing her.

"Can I return home?" was her first question, with an answer she desperately sought after.

He was silent for a while, contemplating his answer. Then, his fingers tightened around her and she found it hard to breathe. " _No_ , you cannot."

His answer shook her in a way she could not verbally describe. "Why not?" she asked, trying her best to ignore the increasing pressure his grip was putting on her.

Suddenly, he took a step down and looked down at her, his grip being ever so strong. She glanced up at him, expecting to see him smile benevolently down at her like how she always remembered him.

But there was no smile at all.

In fact, there was nothing on his face at all.

Where his eyes should have been, there was nothing more now than empty sockets. The place where his mouth should have been located, there was but flawless skin stretching from ear to ear. His nose was but a barren piece of flesh, and where everything else should have been, all she could feast her eyes upon was nothing now.

"Because you failed me, my dear. You let them take me away."

She tried to stay calm. She knew how angered he would become upon seeing her acting obnoxiously "No, I didn't–"

"It was like you wanted them to take me away. Have I truly been that bad a parent?" His hands began to trail up her skin to her neck; like how he used to before. "Did you truly hate me so?"

His hands began to wrap around her throat, and although she began to feel her air getting limited, she did not act against it. An empty feeling in her chest began to form and she struggled to shape her words. "No, I didn't– _gah!_ "

The pressure around her neck reached an unbearable point, completely cutting off any air. Her voice let out short gasps and grunts as she attempted to breathe. This sort of treatment was not foreign to her, but it nonetheless proved itself fatal.

The weight increased drastically and though she tried to prevail, it was evidently to no use. Her head began to feel light and her hands desperately clasped around those of her father, trying to pry his fingers off her neck. This act of defiance would inevitably have consequences later.

Her father's face, or lack thereof, turned dark and malevolent. **"You wanted them to take me away, you little bitch, didn't you?"**

She tried to speak, but no sound other than a few disfigured grunts were heard. Saliva started to drip down her chin and tears were spilling from her eyes from the lack of oxygen. It was as if she was on the verge of falling out of consciousness.

A part of her being told her that she deserved this, for being so long away from him and failing to protect him when the enemy infiltrated their home. This was her punishment for failing her father, for being _useless_.

He had finally deemed her **expendable**.

However, before he could finish her off, he abruptly let go of her. Her knees buckled beneath her weight and she placed a hand over her neck, coughing and desperate to regain air again. A heavy weight in her stomach was starting to appear, causing her to feel as if her intestines wanted to crawl their way out of her mouth and escape their containment.

It wasn't like her organs hadn't been extracted before.

She looked up at her father, but only to see empty space where he once stood.

There were phantom pains still lingering on her neck, like needles penetrating her skin one by one.

 _He was gone,_ and nothing could fill the whole he left behind.

She wanted to call out his name and hear him praise her, tell her that they were soon going to be reunited and that no one would ever be able to separate them ever again. They may have been frivolous desires for someone like her, but there was little more she could cling onto but an empty promise at the moment.

Desperate, she crawled towards the spot he had been standing on. Though it was nothing more now than a piece of solid blackness, merely feeling his lingering warmth would have been enough to console her.

But there was nothing there.

No warmth.

No cold.

Not even a single footprint.

No trace of his existence.

"Where…" She began to ask, clawing at the spot with her nails digging into the non-existent ground like somehow he had been buried beneath it. " _Father_?"

No answer.

" _Father_?"

Still no answer.

"There is no one here. There never have been."

There came a foreign voice beside her, but she did not turn around to pay them any attention. To her, there was no one there. There was no one speaking, nor were there anyone whose space she shared in that current moment.

Her fingers continued to claw at the ground like a rabid dog looking for something in the dirt. Even when her nails began to give in and bleed, she did not stop trying to search for the very person whose seed had made her existence plausible.

"Even if you break your fingers trying to search for him, you won't find the Father."

That name had her stop clawing in an abrupt second, like a clock having been emptied of power. She contemplated whether responding would be the appropriate measure to take, but it didn't seem like it mattered much anymore.

"Do you know how to find him?" she asked and got up to her feet. As she turned around to address the stranger, the oddest sensation hit her in the face. It was a sense of familiarity and unfamiliarity at the same time, but she could not put a name on it.

The figure standing behind her resembled her Father very much; the same dark hair and the same color of his eyes. The difference was that his hair was standing out of every direction and his eyes had a slightly darker shade to it than her father. His skin was pale and there hardly seemed like there was any meat on his body.

Like her, he stood completely exposed, with his genetalia and his abdomen being in complete view. Every inch of his skin was at her disposal. Countless scars and old wounds adorned his body, much like they did hers. They were within every inch of his skin; nothing was excluded.

Who was this person? It was not her Father, despite the similarities they shared. She did not recall any prior encounters with this individual… yet there was something about him which seemed slightly familiar.

The person shook his head, his face void of any expressions. "I do not know of his whereabouts." He said. "All I know is that I'm currently… incapable of finding him, even if I knew."

"What's your designation?" she asked.

"I…. don't remember." He said, shaking his head. "It was only recently that I discovered this place."

"Discovered it?" She tilted her head to the side, unsure. "I don't understand."

"This place… I've never been here before."

"This is my place." She countered. "Only I have been here."

"Then that man was not truly here, was he?" His lips twisted into a grin. "Father was not here, he never was."

Her eyes sharpened as she heard this. She did not like the way he addressed her father. "He is _my_ Father."

The other person did not seem affected by her cold words. "He created me just as he created you. It is within my right to address him as such."

A foreign feeling established itself in her stomach as her mind processed these words. This person… was created in the same manners as her? Did her Father spawn another offspring? No, that wasn't possible. She had never encountered this one before.

Her eyes followed his movements coldly without blinking, like a predator about to ambush an unaware prey. Unfortunately for her, this person was far from oblivious.

He started walking towards her, arms outstretched and smile less malevolent than before. "If not for him, I would have been killed like…." Before he could finish his sentence, his lips twisted into what she could only describe as a twitching frown, his eyes doubled in size and his pupils grew twice as small as they had previously been. His arms began to shake, and his fingers started to tic uncontrollably.

She only watched as his body started to turn and change hysterically; his features lost their composure and his legs hardly seemed like they could support him much longer. She had witnessed countless other people behave similarly when in the face of danger, but this seemed somehow more excessive.

Suddenly, his fingers began to claw at his scalp, ripping off pieces of his hair and coating his fingertips with blood. " _Nonono_ , _I shouldn't remember that. He told me to forget it, said it would be for the best, he did."_

His words were twitching like his movements were, ranging from high-pitched to low. There was no way to find any explanation behind his actions. The situation was beyond comprehensible. No plausible explanation could be shaped with what little information she had gained about this individual. Not even enough to form a single sentence.

She tilted her head slightly. "I don't understand you. Why are you being so difficult?"

But he didn't seem like he heard her. His eyes were on the ground, wide as ever, and his fingers continuously clawed at his skin, from his scalp to his arms. His nails left bloody trails up his forearms and across his abdomen, as though some kind of beast had savaged him.

" _I'm not supposed to remember. FATHER told me that I wasn't supposed to. IT DOESN'T MATTER ANYMORE! THAT PERSON NO LONGER EXIS –"_

His words instantly died down as his head snapped to the side, a loud clicking sound echoed through the empty darkness. Though his eyes were wide open, there was a visible bulge on the right side of his neck.

Expressionlessly, she merely watched as his body succumb to gravity and fell to the ground. The reasons behind her decision to kill him were vague, even to her, but it mattered no longer. Who he was and what his relations to Father were, she could not find it within her to care enough to make assumptions.

All that mattered was simply to find her Father, defeat her enemies, and go _home_.

But then came that sound.

His body, which had previously been left immobile, began to move.

The arms were pushing up the rest of the body and the neck, albeit still snapped, began to move. The legs regained their balance and soon enough, he was upstanding as before but with his back turned to her.

Why was he still there? Why was he still alive?

 **" _You see,"_** he said as he turned his head over to her. Placing both of his hands on each side of his twisted head, there was a loud _crack_ as his head snapped back into place. His lips curled into a menacing grin again. **_"I cannot be killed."_**

Out of instinct, she reached her arm up in an attempt to attack him again.

However, before she could, a piercing pain shot through her breast and all strength abandoned her body in that very moment. A dark figure stood in front of her and it took her a couple of seconds to process that it was him.

Her mind was going rapid and as her eyes managed to cast a brief glance down at her body, the image of an arm penetrating her chest came to view. Blood was pouring out from the open gap.

She tried to speak, opening her mouth to utter something, but only a gurgle managed to escape. Blood soon followed and filled her throat, further rendering her to the inevitable fate of muteness.

"Oh?" he said in surprise and wrapped his other arm around her, pulling their two exposed bodies together into an embrace. "I thought monsters were not supposed to bleed."

His hand began to crawl into her flesh, tearing through her organs and forcing their way to her spine. She could feel his nails brush against her bones and slowly grip around her spinal column.

"It was nice to finally meet you, sister. I've been wanting to do that for a while now." He whispered into her ear. "But soon enough, we'll meet again … in the _flesh_."

As he said this, his nails gripped the pumping organ and he ripped it out of her body.


	14. Chapter 14: Kill Or Be Killed

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers**

 **Warning: Avengers AU, Alive!Pietro AU, Neutral Loki!AU, Neutral!Ultron AU**

 **"Rebirth" has an official blog, where I will be posting pictures and sneak peeks on the upcoming story parts.**

 **Url:** www . rebirth - fanfiction . tumblr . com

 **Password:** _Cyan_

* * *

 **Chapter 14: Kill or be Killed**

* * *

 _"The past cannot be changed.  
The future is yet in your power."  
\- Unknown_

* * *

In another world, the dead would stay dead. No man who fell into the ice would have been able to come back with his heart beating sixty times a minute. No man who fell from a cliff and lost his arm in the process would be able to stand up and live to take the lives of a thousand others at the behest of a puppeteer. No child would stand up in a pool of her own blood to look at the ones behind the triggers.

But this world was not like the kind people expected to see each time they woke up. It seemed like death was only a temporary state of being, one that could easily be walked off if people simply put their minds into it. But to most people, death was a state of mercy. It was an act of kindness to be put out of your misery rather than to live in torment. If there was ever a choice between surviving through pain or lying still in solitude, wouldn't you rather choose the one which granted you fewer inconveniences?

As it turned out, not everyone seemed to have that choice at their disposal. The young girl got to her feet in one piece, all appendages attached to her body and no blood visible through any holes in her being. Her clothes were tattered, the blood was still visible beneath her bare feet, she was still alive. Or rather, she had been brought back.

" _You see, I cannot be killed."_

She stared directly at Tony as she spoke, as though her words were aimed directly at him. But they were the only words that were exchanged. Silence echoed past them like empty air. None of them moved. None of them said anything. None of them seemed like they even breathed. Tony inadvertently held his breath, fearful of releasing it. A sense of urgency rushed through him like blood in his veins; a fear he seldom experienced, even in the direst of situations.

"What are you?" he found himself asking out of the blue, with or without his consent. The question plagued him like maggots through his flesh, tearing through tissue and muscles to try to get to him. It succeeded, but all he was left with was more questions.

Those blue porcelain-like eyes only blinked at his inquiry. "I am …" She looked down at her wrists, unbound and free of any restraints. " _Free_."

It did not take long before the glow in her irises reached Tony's attention, and her intentions had already been made plain clear. He opened his mouth to shout a command to his Iron Legion, prepared to put her out again if that was all it would take to temporarily incapacitate her. However, before he could as much as mutter a vowel, the sound of breaking machinery echoed through his eardrums until they reached the exterior of his brain.

His eyes snapped back to his creations and he was paralyzed in place as he witnessed them all start to dismantle. Blue waves of energy entwined themselves around the suits like serpents and pressured the pieces to break and scatter. It took so little effort, so little time, before they all were reduced to insignificant waste, it took a moment before his head managed to process the view.

With little time to consider his actions, he reached his arm up and prepared to shoot at her. A blast to the head would, fortunately, be able to temporarily knock her out, at best. Velocity would be his advantage if he was quick enough to see it through. However, as he looked back to where the girl previously stood, he was greeted by the sight of empty space.

His pace started to pitch up. "Damn. Where is–"

The next thing he knew, the blue eyes were staring right at him at a significantly closer range than before. To be precise – a few inches apart. He was only allowed enough time to process the view before a loud crunching sound started to resonate, accompanied by heavy pressure on his chest.

To be precise – heavy pressure on the arc reactor.

What happened next was sort of a blur. There were the echoes of gunfire, followed by Natasha's uncharacteristic shrieking. A grunt was heard from the other side, followed by the disoriented view of Bruce being thrown down the second floor and crashing onto the first one (he would rather not imagine the details involved). All he gathered to be true was that in the next matters of seconds, he was lying motionlessly on his back, with no one in his peripheral vision. Neither Natasha nor Bruce were in sight as far as he could tell, but standing over him was Eve, with her piercing eyes keeping him down in place.

There was a tight grip around the mechanical device in his chest, one which threatened to leave him lifeless if he did the wrong move.

"I don't s-suppose," he stuttered. "you a-accept bribes, do you?"

Much to his surprise, the girl tilted her head to the side. "Bribes?"

He let out a groan. "Nevermind." He suspected that there was too much to ask of her being able to comprehend common terms, and he was not incorrect.

The girl suddenly bent down beside him, knees touching the floor and eyes aimed at him with a distant gaze. "I need to get Father's location."

"Well, good luck with that." Tony scoffed, finding it relieving to mask the pain with a joke. "The only way you would get that would be if you got into my head, which you can't– _Oh, wait_! Yes, you can! You already did that with Steve, remember?"

"It was a necessary course of action," she explained bluntly.

"Just like throwing Banner off the railing was necessary?"

"Obstacles," she added. "But I did not terminate them entirely. They are alive."

"Good for me, then? Yay." Sarcasm dripped like cyanide from his lips.

"'Yay?'" She looked down at him, no less puzzled than before.

This was getting ridiculous. "Look, are you going to kill me or talk me to death with all your questions?"

"Killing you would be inconvenient." She clarified. "You hold the location of Father's whereabouts."

"Ah, y-yes, your old man." He muttered the word with as little favor as he could muster, which didn't require a lot of effort on his part. "You know, Red over there w-was just about to speak news about him had you not shut her up as you did."

"Consciousness is not required," she replied nonchalantly. "only a functional one."

"Then you're in poor luck if you think you're gonna get anywhere with my brain. It's the last functioning organ in my body."

This didn't seem to decrease her state of evident confusion any further. She blinked, eyes glittering down at him. "But you're still alive. Your heart is beating approximately eighty-six times in sixty seconds."

 _Thump…_

 _Thump…_

 _Thump…_

 _Thump-thump…_

 _Thump-thump…_

 _Thump-thump-thump…_

 _Thump-thump-thump…_

 _Thump-thump-thump…_

 _ **THUMP-THUMP-THUMP-THUMP**_

An invisible pressure disheveled itself around the organ pumping blood into his veins. Tony swore he could feel the throbbing through his fingers, feel the blood rush through him more hurriedly than before. It was subtle at first, but that abruptly changed as the grip tightened to a painful brink. His breaths grew brief and taking deep ones resulted in little more than aches on the inside.

Had it not been for the circumstances, she might have seemed like an ordinary kid. In another world, perhaps that was what she would have been. An ordinary high-school girl, taking her exams at the end of the year, surrounded by friends, possibly a boyfriend, being greeted by her doting parents at the end of each day. Not some mind-deprived slave with invisible shackles around her like an animal.

It was almost sad.

The throbbing suddenly stopped and he could breathe again. Inhaling on exhaling on interval never felt so revealing. It was not until he glanced back up again that he was met with the reason why.

Eve had turned away from him and had averted her attention onto something else. There was a certain glimmer in her eyes this time. Subtle, but existent nonetheless. He might have missed it had he not been so sharp-eyed as he was then and there. If she wanted to kill him, then she had either just deliberately missed the opportunity. Either that, or she was simply delaying the inevitable.

She got to her feet, and he could feel the weight on him vanish like a gust of air. Her eyes were aimed at the door leading into Tony's lab, where he and Bruce had spent the last couple of weeks working together. For whatever reason, her eyes were now glowing more prominently than they previously had, and the prospect of that unnerved him beyond measure.

Her steps were light, like walking on top of shattered glass. It may not have been too far from the truth, and he watched in silence as she moved across the floor decorated with shattered pieces of his creations and towards the entrance to his laboratory. He wanted to stop her, keep her from meddling with things that were not to be meddled with. However, his primary concern laid with his companions.

As the inventor struggled to get up and rush to his friends, the girl was already headed towards the lab with unwavering intentions. Her countenance may have been masked with neutrality, but she could feel something tugging her. It seemed simple enough to deny, but somehow, it felt wrong. It was like denying an order from her father; dire consequences would become inevitable if she was to disobey.

However, this was not the same kind of force her father would settle upon her. This was a different kind of power, one that was superior to herself. It was a sensation she seldom – if ever – had felt before. She couldn't place a name on it, even if she had the letters arranged in the correct order in her mind. The further she moved towards it, the stronger the pull became. It was almost a magnetic sort of force, reminding her of the kind her father would expose her to. Electric, strong, inconceivable.

The doors opened in front of her before she had as much as grazed the handles. As she stepped inside, her eyes met the very object whose power had summoned her, it seemed. Goosebumps erupted on the surface of her skin, and she stepped closer towards it. These waves intensified, like soundwaves swirling through her central nerves and to her chest. Her heartbeat began to pitch up and the throbbings echoed to the tips of her fingers.

The blue orb was placed in the center of the room, exposed. It stood firmly protected behind some kind of barrier. Yet it did not seem to matter, because she was easily able to reach for it and pull it back from where it was previously contained. It seemed almost too easy, which was a sign that something was amiss. The last time she stood this close to the scepter, her life had been at peril. The memories were vague, nearly obliterated from her mind, but faint glimpses of blue still lingered.

The force continuously pulled her towards it. Even with her fingers firmly gripped around the handle, it seemed dissatisfactory. It seemed strange, incomprehensible. She was holding the very object which's powers granted her the abilities her father praised her for. In a sense, she was holding the object responsible for her very existence. Without it, she would not have been able to breathe, or move, or to even blink. Everything she was depended on it.

Her father would be proud if she returned to him with it in hand. Perhaps it would grant her his favor, his smile, his embrace.

Her fingers trailed across the golden handle, up towards where the orb was secured. Its surface was cold to the touch, yet surprisingly soft. As she reached the orb itself, she had barely managed to graze it when something changed. Something inside her ceased to function, but not like a disability. It stilled inside her, like a cog inside a clockwork ceasing to work properly, rendering the whole machinery inactive.

Blue lines of energy sprang to life from the orb's center, circling around her being. Everything inside her seemed drawn to it, from the heart in the middle of her chest to her head. Her nerves were burning up, she could feel her internal temperature increase for each second which passed. It… hurt her. It broke her down, rendering each breath an inch away from claiming her consciousness. Liquid tears were streaming down her eyes without her acknowledgment and it seemed that every inch of her skin was being torn straight off her.

Her hand clasped fully around the orb, and the urge to rip it out of the scepter's hold fell over her like a wave. But as much as she tried to, something was keeping her from fulfilling it. Holding it felt like holding a block of ice with her bare hands. She loathed the sensation, as much as she had tried to numb it through the past years, and the experience alone prompted her to let go of it before it overwhelmed her senses.

" _ **You question us? You question**_ **him** _ **? He, who put the Scepter in your hand, who gave you ancient knowledge and new purpose when you were cast out, defeated?"**_

" _ **You were made to be ruled. In the end, you will always kneel."**_

" _ **When the Earth starts to settle, God throws a stone at it. And believe me, he's winding up."**_

 **Pang!**

Everything went black for her.


	15. Chapter 15: Old Friends

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers**

 **Warning:** Avengers AU, Alive!Pietro AU, Neutral Loki!AU, Neutral!Ultron AU

 **"Rebirth" has an official blog, where I will be posting pictures and sneak peeks on the upcoming story parts.**

 **Url:** www . rebirth - fanfiction . tumblr . com

 **Password:** _Cyan_

 **A/N: So, after watching Avengers Endgame, I'm honestly admitting the fact that I both cried, laughed, and shivered. It was one of the best movies I have ever seen, and because of that, I also got a lot of new inspiration. After watching both Infinity War and Endgame, I got the idea to involve a certain purple titan and his gang of loonies a little more than I had initially anticipated. I know that what you are about to read will seem a bit sudden, but now that I think of it, I think it actually makes a little bit sense. Hopefully, it will for you guys too.**

 **Anyway, enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter 15: Old Friends**

* * *

 _"Never interrupt your enemy when he is making a mistake."  
\- Napoleon Bonaparte_

* * *

Killing someone was hardly an issue. Natasha had grown up with a finger on the trigger since her entrance into the world, and never had it been problematic to finish the deed before. However, killing someone twice was something she considered out of the ordinary, even in her line of work. Usually, one bullet tended to do it, or several in this case, but apparently not this time.

A fresh brush of red paint decorated the room as the body in front of her fell to the floor; limp. This was the second time this incident had occurred over the course of the same hour, but the spy was pleased that there less of a mess this time than there had previously been. If they were fortunate, the girl would remain dead and be granted a quick departure from this world. Were they unfortunate, however, the girl would rise again and subsequently prompt the spy to exploit a second bullet.

Loki's scepter was discarded to the floor and out of the corpse's grip, although it remained within reach. The blue orb, which had previously been glowing like a lantern in a pitch-black night, had been reduced to a docile version of itself. The glow was still there, but considerably weaker in terms of light-strength. Whatever had happened only seconds earlier, she had made sure to put it to a stop.

The minor injuries the spy had suffered after being thrown off the railing with Bruce had failed to properly incapacitate her. Had she been any slower at making use of the remaining strength she possessed, she most certainly wouldn't have been able to prevent whatever calamity the girl was concocting.

It was a bittersweet sensation that went through her; she had been successful in preventing anything else from being broken, but she had also shot a child. A highly dangerous and unpredictable one, certainly, but a child nonetheless.

The doors leading into the lab suddenly opened and Tony stepped inside, halting slightly with a hand on his chest over the arc reactor. His eyes fell on top of the bleeding corpse and Natasha was surprised to see nothing but sheer relief befall him. "Quick thinking, Nat."

"I wouldn't call it an accomplishment," she muttered with a shrug. "One bullet's as efficient as a thousand if you know where to aim."

"But it's no less messy, apparently," Tony said with a sigh as he stepped closer towards the blood-stained spot. He crouched down to the girl's corpse and hesitantly put a finger on her neck, right where her pulse was supposed to be located. After a moment or so of silence, he got to his feet again. "She's dead, but I wouldn't know for how long."

"We'll have to put those restraints on agai–"

"No." His brief but straight-forward answer disrupted her pronounced thoughts. "She's out of here. Permanently this time."

"But Steve said–"

"I couldn't care less about what the Old Man thinks," he interrupted her again as he proceeded to reach for the scepter on the floor, inspecting it for any damages before he placed it delicately back behind the protective barrier it must have been previously placed at. "I'm handing her over to Ross. Maybe he knows what to do with her because I sure can't."

"No, absolutely not!"

The objection came not from either of the ones present in the room, but from someone who came walking unsteadily into it. Bruce's face had been decorated with a visible bruise on the left side of his face which he had undoubtedly received from impact with the first floor, but it didn't seem to have rendered him unconscious. Relief rushed through the Black Widow's body, but she kept it concealed from view.

The scientist paced forward towards Tony. "We cannot hand her over to Ross! He'll terminate her once given the chance!"

Tony held both of his arms up. "I know your history to him, but we cannot have a calamity walking around anymore. I gave Steve a warning what would happen if she stepped out of line, and I can say now with confidence that she," he pointed down at the body without looking away from his partner. "is too dangerous to even be standing on her legs."

"So what? You're just- You're just going to hand her over to people who know little else than to respond to the unknown with firearms?"

Tony cast him a glare. "You know anything better, then?"

"I know enough to know that xenophobia rarely makes people think rationally." Bruce's response seemed to touch Tony to a certain degree, as the latter was rendered silent for a couple of seconds. He seemed to deliberate the choices at his disposal, but the conclusion reached no change, and he distantly looked away from the scientist's gaze.

"You saw what she did," he mumbled barely above a whisper. "She could have killed us all."

"But she didn't….." Bruce paused. " _Why_ didn't she?"

"She wanted the location of Jeraslovik, and needed me to give it to her."

"Did she get it?"

"… No."

"Why?" Bruce reasoned. "Why didn't she? What kept her from getting into your head?"

Tony's eyes fell upon the scepter, and Bruce turned around to follow.

"She went to get the Scepter," Natasha explained. "She was glowing when she touched it like it had some kind of effect on her."

"What did she do with it?"

She shook her head. "I don't know. She seemed as though she was in some kind of … trance, but I put a bullet in the back of her head before she could snap out of it and do who-knows-what." The words were hard to pronounce, although the reluctance to do so was subtle. She was used to masking anything she felt could compromise with her sense of reason, but it still found its way to her eventually.

"You just killed her?" Bruce asked in disbelief.

"As much as I loathe agreeing with Tony, I had no other choice." Natasha found herself saying with honesty. "We can't keep her around any longer. She's a ticking time-bomb."

"Yeah, so am I," His response caught her off-guard. "Yet you still keep me around, don't you?"

"Well, you weren't raised in a battlefield, were you?" Tony vehemently argued. "Taught to kill and destroy, to be used by others."

"No, but I was taught to be used, alright." Bruce retorted. "She's a child. She doesn't know any better."

"Exactly. Fighting is _all_ she knows!" Tony threw his hands on the air. "I'm contacting Ross, but for the time being, I'm keeping her locked up with every security measure that's necessary, and I'll be placing new members of the Iron Legion with her. She moves, she dies. _Again_."

"Tony–"

" _Nada. Nicht. Nyet._ _ **No**_. End of story. It will piss of Rogers, but so be it. Rather than to risk having _her_ looking for daddy-dearest."

"Speaking of which," Natasha interjected, earning her the attention of both men in the room. "That's what I came here to talk about. Agent Hill sent me a message on behalf of Ross."

* * *

At first, there was a splitting headache. His cranium felt as though it was being cracked open with a hammer and then, there came the darkness. The weak lightbulb attached to the ceiling vanished entirely and even the shadows ceased to exist in the wake of the ebony. Wilhelm knew what this meant as he shook his head in an attempt to dissolve the pain. It was strange, in a sense, how _He_ wished to speak to him now of all times. After all, the last time they conversed, they parted on less than civil terms.

"I would say that I am disappointed, but that would require more effort than I'm willing to spend on you."

The scientist let out a chuckle, but it was deafened due to the lack of hydration he had suffered for the past couple of days. The weeks had not been kind to him, after all.

Before him appeared a shape, one he knew too well. A thin, gaunt figure wearing a medieval cloak and lacking something quite noticeable on his features. It reminded Wilhelm of a certain cartoon character he used to watch when he was a child.

His teeth widened to a smile. "Maw," he greeted welcomingly and got to his feet. "I'm happy to see a familiar face."

The figure did not seem to share his enthusiasm. "Jeraslovik, the Master is not pleased with the change of events."

A shaggy sigh escaped his throat, though it was partially due to the displeasure he experienced at the hands of his former colleague. "Right onto business as always," he said and sagged back into the wall with both of his arms resting at the top of his kneecaps. "I assume that you wish to–" Before he could finish his sentence, a tight grip wrapped itself around his throat, rendering him unable to pronounce more than a few gasps.

"The last time we met, you said you were making progress with the stone," Maw hissed, though his composure was kept firmly in place. "You vowed to study it and bring us reports of its capabilities, but instead, you have been toying with it like a child."

Jeraslovik wrapped his arms around his neck, trying desperately to defuse the hold on him. Tears began to pour down his eyes as he felt whatever remained of air discard his body. "I … d-did … s-s-stud- study it …"

"No," Maw contradicted him sharply. "You merely studied the results of it. You have used it to create … _abominations_. Creatures whose existence are but blasphemy against His words. One who is currently with the enemy and the other who is frozen inside a block of ice."

He could not tell whether it was the fury that was bubbling up inside of him or whether it was Maw's own deliberate actions, but Jeraslovik soon found himself at the liberty of breathing and indulged in it more than a once before pronouncing another word. To call his beloved children such a vile word, an indescribable sensation surged through his veins and to the brink of his skin. It was a marvel that he managed to keep his demeanor as collected as he did; because if not, he might have done something regrettable towards that noseless piece of shit.

"I," he uttered between breaths. "I created _life_."

"You created _nothing_ ," Those words echoed through the scientist's mind for longer than it should have. "All you did was produce an offspring and toy with it, quite morbidly if I am to speak my mind. You pretended to be a God, with the same power which He granted you for a different purpose. You have overstepped your liberties, Wilhelm," Maw shook his head disappointedly with his hands behind his back. "I shall see to it that the Master does not make the same mistake again, entrusting a human with something powerful beyond comprehension."

"No! Wait!" Jeraslovik bellowed. "You need me!"

"By now, you are as useful as a sack of tools," the other figure responded casually. "Useful in the hands of someone competent, but nonetheless expendable on its own."

Expendable?

 _EXPENDABLE_?

"WITHOUT ME, YOU WILL NEVER FIND IT! I'LL MAKE SURE OF THAT MYSELF!" His teeth gritted themselves against each other like they were grinding fine dust. "BUT IF YOU KEEP ME, I WILL MAKE SURE THAT THE MAD TITAN WILL GET WHAT HE HAS BEEN PROMISED AND MORE! I SWEAR ON MY LIFE!" His pulse was through the roof, his eyes were twice their original size, and he found it hard to breathe after speaking.

This seemed to catch Maw's attention, if only a little. "You seem to be under the impression that your life is valuable." The figure turned around and faced the scientist once again. "But what, pray tell, can you offer us other than what we will retrieve eventually?"

Surprisingly, the words were not hard to utter. In fact, they were quite easy to speak. "I will offer you my daughter,"

At the mention of this, Maw stoically raised an eyebrow. "Your daughter? Of what use is she to us? If memory serves, she's hardly as strong as you have boasted of for the last seventeen years. Her powers are inconsequential to mine."

"She's not done yet," Jeraslovik countered vehemently. "But soon she will be. She will become stronger than any of you; Proxima, Corvus, Obsidian, all of them. Including you."

"How soon, then?"

"Soon enough," he answered, gripping his fingers around each other tightly. "She will follow the Mad Titan at my orders."

"Your promises are as empty as your words, Wilhelm," Maw said unimpressed, much to Jeraslovik's chagrin. "We have little use for children who can do magic tricks with their fingers."

"She's so much more than that," Jeraslovik managed to say with as much calm as he could possibly muster, considering the circumstances. "She's been closer to the stone than any of you lot ever have. She understands it, she knows it."

"So have many others," Maw said. "Few who have regained their minds long enough to elaborate on the subject. Stones like those are not to be meddled with so easily."

"It wasn't easy," Jeraslovik croaked. "It never was."

"Clearly. It only landed you right here in this cell, alone and with nothing at your disposal." The darkness began to fade, as did the figure. "Consider this your formal dismissal, Wilhelm. The Master has deemed you a failure, so there is little more left for us to do with you."

This could not be it. He reached his arm forth, attempting to grab the figure by the hem of his robes. "MAW, WAIT!"

But he was out of reach and landed face-first on the ground.

" _Don't be mistaken; we will surely meet again."_ Maw's voice echoed at the back of his brain. _"Just don't expect it to be a very friendly greeting. If you are lucky, you will cease to exist before then."_

And the scientist was once again left alone in his cell, accompanied only by a mind which was on the verge of collapsing. He wanted to rip out that noseless bastard's throat and beat him to death with it. He wanted to make him beg for mercy, him and his bloody arrogance. He started to dig into the cement-floor with his nails, clawing them up and ripping them off until blood started to show.

This continued even after the doors into his cell opened and security guards escorted him out to meet someone. Someone he had not seen in a very, very long time.


	16. Chapter 16: Bittersweet Sensations

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers**

 **Warning:** Avengers AU, Alive!Pietro AU, Neutral Loki!AU, Neutral!Ultron AU

 **"Rebirth" has an official blog, where I will be posting pictures and sneak peeks on the upcoming story parts.**

 **Url:** www . rebirth - fanfiction . tumblr . com

 **Password:** _Cyan_

* * *

 **Chapter 16: Bittersweet Sensations**

* * *

When she regained her consciousness, all the girl could recollect was her attempt at escaping, which involved incapacitating Anthony Stark and his fellows. Then, the image of the Scepter reached her mind, its luminous colors flashing in front of her before there was the sensation of something sharp piercing through her cranium and everything went dark from there.

What happened afterward was not something she could deem collectible. There was no memory left of what had occurred after her temporary incapacitation, nor were there anything that could provide her with the necessary intel required to assess her situation. No sounds, no images, nothing at all.

As she opened her eyes for the first time since her incapacitation, she was met with brightness. It was not a foreign sensation, but what seemed strange was that this time, she had not been relocated into the cell her captors had initially deemed fit for her.

Eve looked around, eyes scanning the perimeter – however small it was. Four white walls, no sign of any windows, only a single door in front of her. She was laying in a bed, a soft blanket covering her feet up to her chest. Her clothes had been replaced to that of a single gown – something akin to the kind she had used whenever her father was finished with a physical assessment of her. Tubes were attached to her skin as well, with unknown fluids surging through them and into her system.

With this in mind, she reluctantly reached to move her appendages, yet found that both of her arms and legs were tightly restrained by something. Her eyes trailed down to her arms, Shackles were bound around them, keeping her movements restricted and her capability of doing much small. As she tried to move her legs as well, she quickly realized that they were not excluded from the treatment either.

Another matter was that there seemed to be something equally restraining around her neck as well, threatening to cut her oxygen-intake off entirely if not for the little space between her skin and the fabric that was keeping her inhales restricted. She did not have to put much strength into figuring out what sort of purpose the device around her throat served, as she had grown adjusted to it quite fittingly over the past couple of days now.

She instinctively tried to tear it off of her, but her arms could not reach her past the height of her upper-arms, making it essentially impossible for her to reach her neck. Despite this, she continued to tug on the restraints to her uttermost ability – as far as her physical capabilities would allow her. The rails of the bed began to shake the more she pulled on the shackles they were attached to, but their hold did not lessen to the extent where it would increase her chances of getting loose.

In a desperate attempt, she tried to use her abilities. Her nerves were tightening inside of her, her heart started to pound harder, and she could feel her temperature growing warmer and warmer. Yet it did not last, because the moment she tried to unlock her powers, a surge of volts rushed through her in a matter of milliseconds. It was painful, to say the least, and considerably stronger than before. She let out a gasp and quickly ceased her attempt, but the electrical assaults did not vanish.

Her fingers started to tremble inconsistently, she could feel the hair on her skin rising upwards. From the source from the neck to the tips of her toes, not a single cell of hers was excluded from the excruciating agony her body was experiencing. Her teeth started to grind against each other and she could feel her brain pounding against her cranium with no limit whatsoever. This pain … it was not unlike something she had experienced in the past, but to relive it was not something she had anticipated.

Warm blood began to rush down her nose in a rapid pace and she instinctively clutched against the rails of the bed, gripping tightly around them to the point where she could feel the metal slightly bend under her grasp. A ringing sound started to echo through her eardrums and her vision was starting to become blurry and disoriented.

It hurt.

It hurt so much.

She wanted the pain to go away.

She wanted to go home.

Home.

Home.

Father.

 _FATHER._

As the last electric shock flowed through her system, she crashed back into the soft pillow behind her and attempted to compose herself from the pain. Her body was still shivering, experiencing an amalgamation of both cold and warmth inside her. Sweat was running down her skin by the gallons, yet she was also freezing to the point where goosebumps erupted on her skin. There was no easy way for her to distinguish, and her eyes remained distantly glued to the ceiling.

The bright light above her seemed to flicker, but whether that was a result of the shock her body was experiencing or otherwise, it was unknown. The sound of …. Alarms in the distance piqued, accompanied by the flashes of crimson colors in the ceiling. It was disoriented, so there was no true way for her to understand what was going on. Her breathing was slowing down, almost too much, she could barely make out the sound of her inhalations.

And yet, it felt so … _peaceful_.

* * *

"So, you're telling me that Jeraslovik is currently being visited by Ross?" Tony drew a hand over his face in exasperation. "What the hell does he think that he'll achieve by talking to that sadistic SOB?"

"He thinks that, despite Jeraslovik's initial intent, he might be able to use his intellect for something advantageous on our side," Natasha explained with a sigh, leaning back into the couch.

"He's resorting to using a sociopath as a means to advance his work?" Bruce did a double-take as he spoke, feeling overwhelmed with the information he just received. One thing was that the man he did not harbor necessarily good notions about was involved, but another thing was the fact that he wanted to use one of the most disgusting people he had ever known for that. "He can't be serious."

"He hasn't been explicit on the plan," Natasha added calmly. "But he's arranged a meeting with him at the Raft, so he won't be available until further notice. The girl will have to stay here for the time being."

To say that this was a bothersome situation was an underestimation beyond comprehension, and Tony didn't know whether to laugh at the circumstances or just bitch about it. Eventually, he settled with doing neither of those and got up to his feet.

"In other words," he said exhausted. "Relocating her is impossible until he comes back?"

Natasha tilted her head to each side in affirmation.

"Great, just great,"

"She's been debilitated, so we can only wait until–"

"And how long do you think that's gonna last, Bruce?" Tony shot his answer down in an instant, forehead wrinkled as his eyebrows raised into a look of disbelief. "She could cut her arms off in order to get those shackles off of her, or-or she could cut her throat in an effort to the restraint of there. The volts alone might be enough to kill her if she's too resilient, but she's just come back, right?!"

Tony didn't realize it before he had finished, but he had been holding his breath for longer than he should have. He could not tell whether it was produced by the adrenaline that was pumping through him or the sense of dread he was experiencing. Or maybe, it was all a product of his inability to comprehend what had just happened before his very eyes. He had seen a girl shot to smithereens, and yet she had succumbed back to life in a matter of minutes.

What was dead was supposed to stay that way. People weren't supposed to come back. He wasn't supposed to wake up after that incident with the wormhole. Captain American was supposed to stay frozen under the ocean. Sometimes dead was better.

"Tony," Bruce called him, earning the attention of his friend. "We can't do anything now, and Ross won't be the solution you're looking for. You're talking about a kid, a dangerous one, but a kid nonetheless. She's alone in the world."

"She's also a danger to it," Natasha gently disagreed, sending him a sympathetic look which meant that she understood where his opinions were coming from. Bruce had always had a weak spot for people who were different, much like him, but they sometimes tended to shroud his rationality sometimes.

Upon earning a rather questioning look from him in return, she held her arms up. "Look, I'm not justifying imprisoning a kid either, but she doesn't know how to act like a normal teenager. She's been trained since childhood to kill, hunt, destroy everything within her path at the orders of her superiors. The Maximoffs were not exposed to such."

"But _you_ were," he insisted sharply, but then his eyes bent downwards to a sad expression as he realized what he had just said. He caught his breath in his throat, feeling sore as he tried to produce the necessary words required to vocalize his apology. "I'm sorry, I didn't–"

"No, you're right," she proclaimed without raising her voice in the slightest, inclining her head towards him. "I was, but this is different."

"How so?" he asked. "She can still learn, can't she? Learn how to do good?"

"Do you think it's going to be that easy?" Tony threw his hand in Bruce's general direction without turning around. "Training a puppy is easy, but this … this is a ticking time-bomb. You design it, you build it with no other intentions than to blow something up sooner or later. That's why I'm handing her to Ross as soon as he's back from his little escapade with Jeraslovik."

"He'll terminate her."

The inventor opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it and shut it again. His skin had paled considerably over the last couple of hours, his body was still feeling sore and his chest felt exposed; a weight had placed itself on top of it ever since the incident earlier had occurred. He could not put the words on it, but he knew what it was that was causing it. While he understood Bruce's sympathy, he could not risk anything. The world required a shield, but it wasn't just things on the outside that required guarding.

"I'm sorry, Bruce," he whispered as he turned towards the windows, marveling the sight of the city while attempting to keep his emotions on hold. However, while his back was turned, he felt his eyes sting. " But I can't do anything."

"Tony?"

His name reached his ears and instinctively caused him to shift around in his stance, facing the entrance. The familiar shape of the Captain entered view, and it was clear as anything that the destruction around in the building had caught his attention.

Steve looked around, eyes darting like those of cat around the place. Everything from the shattered Iron Man suits to the visible traits of distress on his comrades warranted alarms inside of him.

"What happened here?" was all he could ask, yet a part of him already knew.

"Steve," Natasha called him quietly. "You should sit down for this."

* * *

"Well, this is certainly a surprise, isn't it, Thaddeus?"

Despite the guards restraining him, as well as the shackles around his wrists that kept his physical movements restricted, Wilhelm could not help but to glee at the sight of the old man sitting across the table in the interrogation room. Even as he was forcefully put down onto the seat opposite of the table, there was little else he experienced but smugness surging through him.

"Doctor Jeraslovik." The military general inclined his head coldly towards him.

"Doctor? What a formal term to use, almost too much to my liking," Wilhelm said as his lips continued to spread. "How has retirement been? Tedious, I'm certain?"

"It's Secretary of State now, and we are not here to discuss my state of being, but rather yours." The old man was competent in terms of concealing his emotions if he had any at all. It was a quality the scientist had grown to admire over the course of the few years they spent knowing each other long ago.

"As much as I appreciate your concern, Thaddeus, I'm quite content with my current situation. Free food, shelter, it's any 'criminal's' dream."

Judging by the way the ex-general's fingers continued to tap against the surface of the table, Wilhelm could easily deduce that Ross was starting to lose his patience already in spite of his ability to conceal his inner-turmoil.

"When we last parted ways, I would not imagine that you would stoop as low as to join HYDRA," Ross proceeded to explain. "But then again, you were always unpredictable."

"Old habits die hard, as they say."

"And that is exactly what got you in this situation. Quite fitting, _I_ would say,"

Wilhelm shrugged indifferently. "My actions, my consequences,"

"But to think that you spent years studying an item with divine powers, creating a monster, to begin with, and further enhancing your overall madness." As he said this, Wilhelm could see that there was something akin to agitation swirling up inside of the ordinarily-stoic man.

His own forehead crinkled slightly as the sound of the word 'monster' reached him, and he could not help but feel a twinge of agitation strike himself. Still, he contained himself just enough to talk without doing something impulsive. "The original owner did not need the Scepter anymore, so I didn't see a problem in using it myself for something that would be mutually beneficial for everyone."

"That poor excuse of a God got what was coming for him, and so did you,"

"If this is punishment, then I do not see it as such." Wilhelm deliberately yawned. "But tell me, there must be a reason for you to talk to me in such civil manners. May I inquire what it is that you wish of me?"

Ross leaned back into his seat, exhaling through his nose. "What if I told you that there would be a chance of you to lessen your sentence if you were to cooperate with the United States?"

Wilhelm perked up, not necessarily overjoyed, but rather curious. "And how far, exactly, is my sentence?"

"Well beyond a three-digit number."

"Then who am I to disagree?" He let out a chuckle. "What would you have me do?"

"The Executive Board showed interest in your broad knowledge regarding subjects related to the Scepter, as well as your previous connections to HYDRA. If you were to provide with the information in return for a reduced sentence, would you be interested?" His lips suddenly tightened. "Although I, for one, oppose against it."

"I'm deeply wounded, Thaddeus."

"You don't have feelings, Jeraslovik," the ex-general rebuffed coldly. "You aren't human, which is why everything you create is deemed so too."

The scientist suddenly felt himself grow weary. "Are you referring to something, or someone, in general?"

Noting the way his voice deepened, Ross raised an eyebrow. "Mr. Stark currently has custody of one of your creations, and he has offered to give me custody of her instead."

Upon hearing this, Wilhelm attempted his best to keep himself contained. "Oh?"

"Personally, I was surprised, especially considering how we don't usually see eye-to-eye, but I'm willing to make an exception this time." His eyes trailed up again to meet those of the scientist. "This is a matter of international security. Once she's relocated, I will ensure that she will stay contained for however long I deem necessary."

Surprisingly, instead of behaving like a child throwing a tantrum, Wilhelm found himself laughing at the prospect. He laughed so hard that his eyes were filled with tears and his reaction visibly disturbed the guards behind him. Even Ross did a double-take with confusion. "That's rich, coming from you," Wilhelm proclaimed, failing to contain his amusement. "You're not trying to contain a national threat, Thaddeus, you're trying to contain a weapon you see fit in using later on, isn't that right?"

"I do not–" Ross attempted to nonchalantly deny, but Wilhelm quickly interrupted him.

"You attempted at creating a weapon with Banner, did you not? And look how that ended. You haven't changed at all; only your suit and speech, but you're still the same old bastard with too much time on his hands–"

"I'm warning you, Jeraslovik," Ross spoke gravely. "You will be escorted out unless you cooperate."

That must have had some kind of lingering effect on him because Wilhelm abided by the warning and managed to compose himself. He leaned back into his seat with a sigh and, almost as if on an on/off button, he regained his equanimity. "Alright, alright, I was a little harsh there. I apologize."

But the State of Secretary was not entertained. "The girl's state of being will remain contained for the time being, although I do find myself curious." He paused for a brief moment before he proceeded to speak again. "Who is she? A street urchin you picked up in Sokovia? An abducted child? Was she the only one?"

But for each assumption and guess the ex-general threw at him, Wilhelm both shook his head and tried to keep the anger inside him at a docile point. To indicate that his child was anything less than something directly produced by him was an insult beyond comprehension.

"Of course not," he said, unconsciously gritting his teeth. "She's my child by blood, through and through." Wilhelm sighed. "My perfect little doll, made from the best porcelain." He didn't know it at the time, but thinking back on his precious girl, he could not help but to feel all anger vanish entirely from his being and become replaced with ecstasy, happiness, joy. He could feel his nether-regions tingle, his skin prickle, his chest warm up.

Oh, how he missed her. He truly missed her; like a fish would crave water, how a bee would crave flowers, how a God would crave subjects to bend to his will. The image of her never failed to appear, never once.

He could imagine her just as he would have had he seen her only a few moments ago. She must have been miserable without him, simply miserable. He was looking forward to the day they would reunite, and he sincerely believed that it would be soon.

"And what about the mother?" Ross' words snapped him out of his daydream, much to his chagrin as he was forced to resume his attention to the ex-general. "Does she still live?"

At the sound of this, Wilhelm merely waved his hand (as shackled as it may have been) dismissively. "The incubator was removed from her services shortly after birth. I had no further use for her."

"Really?" Ross remained evidently unimpressed. "Because according to your records, you were married to an American citizen for a time being. You do not mean to tell me that she was the girl's mother?"

"I cannot recall her name, but I was a courteous husband. I allowed her to stroll out of there without a fuss while telling Wolfgang she had ceased to live after birth." Wilhelm commented bluntly with little to no interest. "That was a kindness on my part, to let her live. There was some brief infatuation in my side with her, to begin with, and although I did find her entertaining at first, she proved to be tedious shortly after my doll was–"

" _Eve_."

Wilhelm blinked. "Pardon?"

"According to Tony Stark, the girl goes by 'Eve'. She's been causing quite a stir over the last couple of weeks. She's looking for you, so I'll be there personally to ensure that she's contained by the time we relocated her."

But the scientist did not seem to have heard him. Instead, his eyes remained glued to the table as his mind processed those three letters. " _Eve_."

 _Clever, clever girl._

"I don't suppose that she had a name prior to your experiments?" Ross insinuated. "I don't believe you bothered."

" _Eve_." _ **He was soooooooo proud of her.**_

His Glasgow-like grin only extended. "What a clever girl."

"Pardon?" Ross blinked when all he met were the deranged eyes of a monster.

The scientist leaned as forward as he could and said, "She's smart, unlike you lot. And to answer your first question: no, she was not the only one."

The ex-general's face paled. "What do you mean?"

But the scientist only laughed at this reaction, shaking his head. "I bid you good luck, Thaddeus. Those are the only answers I'll give you."

And with that, the guards escorted him out of there and back to his cell, disturbed my the menace that resided in the captive's being.

* * *

It was quiet in the evening at Metro-General Hospital. Most patients were content with their care whilst others had simply tucked to bed. Some patients, however, were waiting anxiously for their diagnosis or for their family. Even so, the silence was of mutual enjoyment.

The temporary quiet in the background had therefore caused a cardiothoracic surgeon to temporarily lose focus from the notepad in her hand and stare out the windows, finding herself mesmerized with how beautifully the stars aligned with each other up the darkened skies. It was already late in the evening and the number of patients in need of immediate care had reduced considerably over the day. Of course, it could not compare to the carnage that was caused by the alien invasion in 2012, so she enjoyed every moment like this until her presence was summoned.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" came a voice from beside her. The doctor spontaneously shifted her head around, but only to see her colleague Dr. Palmer standing next to her, seemingly equally marveled with the star-filled night that was on display.

Likewise, the surgeon returned her attention back to what had claimed it earlier and she nodded. "Very much so, I always find myself admiring it."

"So do I, but there are seldom occasions where either of us can enjoy it, am I right?"

She chuckled at those words but nodded in agreement. "True, but I suppose we are allowed to indulge once in a while. You can't stay alive if you don't live. It's one of the rarest things of all. Most people simply exist."

Dr. Palmer glanced slyly at her through her peripheral vision. "Wilde, huh? Didn't take you for such a livid reader, Dr. Evensson,"

"What can I say?" the cardiothoracic surgeon, Dr. Evensson, answered and returned the look with mutual fondness. "I do indulge on occasion, after all."

"By the way, how's Anna? Still sick?" Dr. Palmer asked, referring to her colleague's daughter.

Dr. Evensson sighed. "Unfortunately, yes. Her immunity-system is weak, so it happens a lot."

"Wow, poor thing," Dr. Palmer sympathized. "Hope she gets well, soon."

"It's nothing too serious, so I'm certain it will be over soon. I did a thorough examination and found nothing out of the ordinary." She let out another sigh as she worried for her child, who was currently at home with a babysitter.

Then she looked back over at her colleague. "How has it been with Dr. Strange recently? I hope he's not been too difficult lately."

Dr. Palmer could only shrug. "As you said, nothing out of the ordinary. A pain in the ass as usual."

"They have a word for people like him where I come from, you know," Dr. Evensson said with a smile. "They are usually referred to as ' _Arrogante Drittsekker'_ , mildly put."

"What does it mean?" Dr. Palmer asked with a quirked eyebrow. "I get the feeling that the word _Arrogant_ is included."

"You're not wrong."

"' _Jeg håper du vet at jeg kan forstå hva du sier selv om det er på et annet språk?'"_

Another voice caused them both to flinch and snap around, only to find them in the presence of none other than Dr. Stephen Strange, the very man whose ability to annoy anyone with his dry comments they had just discussed.

Dr. Evensson only chuckled benevolently at him. "Of course, which is why I enjoy doing it."

"Your attempts at humor is most tedious," Dr. Strange said with a tug on his lips. "' _Arrogante drittsekk'_ , really? Couldn't you have been a little more creative."

"I find it fitting, on occasion."

Meanwhile, all Dr. Palmer could do was shake her head. "And here I am, unable to understand what either of you is saying."

"Norwegian is a funny language," Dr. Strange admitted. "It also helps me to insult my colleagues without them knowing a thing because they're unbearably stupid."

"Oh, really?" Dr. Palmer raised both her eyebrows. "Anything you've said about me?"

"Nope."

She turned her head to Dr. Evansson. "Is that true?"

Her colleague nodded in affirmation. "Surprisingly yes."

"Hmmm…" Dr. Palmer did not look convinced, but only sighed as she let it go. "I got a patient on the third floor to take care of, so I'll leave you be."

"Yes, I should also be going," Dr. Strange added. "Billy's going to be a pain in the ass unless I arrive with my reports."

Dr. Evansson could only laugh at the irony but chose to keep it quiet. "Then I'll see you both later, then. Don't overwork yourselves."

"Course we do; that's what medicine requires." Dr. Palmer commented before both she and Dr. Strange disappeared down the corridor alongside each other, leaving the last doctor standing there alone by the windows.

Before she departed herself, her blue looked out the window once again and sighed, unknowingly clutching her abdomen.

* * *

 **Translation:**

 _"Arrogante Drittsekk"_ = "Arrogant Bastard (meaning)/ "Arrogant Shitbag (directly translated)"

 _"'Jeg håper du vet at jeg kan forstå hva du sier selv om det er på et annet språk?'"_ = "I do hope you know that I understand what you are saying even though it is in another language."


	17. Chapter 17: Foreign Circumstances

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers**

 **Warning:** Avengers AU, Alive!Pietro AU, Neutral Loki!AU, Neutral!Ultron AU

 **"Rebirth" has an official blog, where I will be posting pictures and sneak peeks on the upcoming story parts.**

 **Url:** www . rebirth - fanfiction . tumblr . com

 **Password:** _Cyan_

* * *

 **Chapter 17: A Stranger surrounded by Stranger**

* * *

"Wake up, please,"

And she did. At the sound of the voice that had disturbed her rest, she regained her consciousness and sat up in her bed to come face to face with Steven Rogers, whose presence in her secluded cell did something akin to startling her. While her body continued to ache from the pressure her restraints were putting on her, she was still perfectly capable of perceiving her surroundings. Initially, she assumed that she had been woken up to face some kind of retribution for her previous actions, more so than the restraints seemed to serve as.

However, Steven Rogers began to undo her restraints, starting from her wrists and down to her ankles. "Sorry," he murmured with as much sincerity as she could detect (although the concept of such remained very much foreign to her). When he finished undoing them, his eyes seemed to twitch slightly as he processed the sight of the abrasions that had been left behind by the fabric of the shackles. Bluish and discolored blemishes decorated her pale skin to the point where it reminded her of Rorschach images that she had seen before during mental evaluations conducted by Dr. List.

"I'm sorry," Steven Rogers said again and looked away to the side. "I'm sure Tony didn't mean to do it, but he had his reasons,"

"I inflicted damage onto his allies. Punishment is mandatory,"

"Did you mean to harm them?"

"My objective was to find Father's location,"

"That doesn't answer my question,"

She didn't answer. Rather, she found herself curious as to what his intentions were, something that would reasonably explain why he was releasing her from her containments, which had previously been deemed critical by Anthony Stark.

"They told me you were killed," Steven Rogers said, high eyes wandering to her arms. "But you came back,"

"I cannot be killed," she confirmed without a second thought. "Neither firearms nor blades can kill me,"

"... But doesn't it hurt?" he asked.

Hurt?

Did it ... hurt?

She glanced down at her arms, her perfectly stable and uninjured arms. The abrasions were one thing, but she could faintly spot the scars of her upper arms where the bullets had penetrated her flesh. They were vague and scarcely noticeable, but they were there nonetheless.

Had they... hurt?

"My pain is trivial," she responded with. "This is not ... something I have not experienced before."

The room went still after that. You could drop a needle and hear it hit the floor.

Rather than getting up now that she was partially free, she remained where she sat, though her gaze never left Steven Rogers'. His face was... unreadable, though she was not competent in terms of understanding people's motives from their expressions alone. It was difficult to differentiate them. As she tilted her head to get a better look at him, she could feel pressure around her neck strain her breathing, and she looked down to acknowledge the fact that there was still a restraint around her neck; the collar.

"I can't remove that…" Steven Rogers explained slowly from where he stood. "… Not until I have your word."

Word? There existed countless words in the world, but what kind of word would she request from her?

"A word?" she asked. "A specific word? A verb? An adjective? A noun?"

"No," He shook his head. "I mean, a promise."

"A promise?" She knew what a promise was in terms of definition. She had been ordered to make 'promises' to Father, some to herself as well. They were objectives, from what she could comprehend. Objectives you were obliged to fulfill.

Steven Rogers nodded. "Promise me… that you will not harm anyone."

She blinked. "Harm?"

"Do not expose anyone to physical or mental harm by any means, and that you will do as I say." he proceeded to elaborate while crossing his arms over his chest, the brown fabric of his coat folding over itself as his posture stiffened like a target aware of the shot aimed at him from behind. "I need you to promise me that,"

As she processed this command, he walked up to her on the side of the bed, bent down to his knees and stretched his hand towards her.

"Promise me that, and I … will allow you to see your father,"

She blinked again, feeling her chest heave as this information came down upon her. Following this command… Would grant her the chance to see Father again?

She looked down at his hand then at his face, scrutinizing him and this gesture of his.

He seemed puzzled by this. "What's the matter?"

"Your hand," she said and pointed at it. "Do you have any physical dysfunctions that would prompt your wrist to extend at random?"

He raised an eyebrow, genuinely startled by this. "N-No, you are supposed to shake it when you make a promise,"

"Why?"

" _Why_?"

"How does it ensure that the promise is binding?"

"Well … It seals a deal between two parties," he explained, not lowering his hand. "Two people agree on something and shake hands to verify that they both intend to keep their end of the bargain. It's more of a tradition, really. You are also supposed to shake it when you introduce yourself to new people,"

She absorbed this new information like a swamp, but could still not understand it properly. She recalled seeing her father extend his hand similarily whenever he spoke to someone ... but she still could not understand it. "So, it has no function? It simply … is?"

"You could say it like that," Steven Rogers confirmed. "It's a gesture of trust."

"' Trust'?" She did not understand.

"Yes, trust." He sighed, cognitively drained if she was to judge from looking at him. "You can depend on someone. You got someone who has your back."

"Why would they be in possession of my spinal cord?"

"No– I – Just… – Just look at it like this," he sighed again, drawing his other hand over his face and through his hair. "You won't kill or hurt anyone, and I will make sure that you see your father. I know that you won't hurt anyone, and you know I will let you see your father. Do you understand?"

While it did little to increase her knowledge about the subject, she looked down at his hand one last time before she reached up and took it.

"I …. Promise,"

His touch was … _warm_. Soft.

It was … comfortable.

"Now," he said and turned around to reach for something in a bag that had been placed by the foot of the bed. "I hope you wouldn't mind a little change in attire,"

At this, she merely tilted her head to the side.

* * *

While Bruce was no genius in terms of understanding the advanced principles of mechanic inventions, he had absorbed some of that knowledge by watching Tony excessively working on his creations like there was no tomorrow. Although it didn't make him an expert, he knew well enough now to go through with the 'basic' stuff, including how to dismantle the Iron Legion droids' sensors and parts of the security system. As such, he – and anyone else for that matter – could pass the Iron Legion by without ever stirring their security monitors. It would only be temporary, so there was no harm done.

Tony hadn't lied when he said that he would place the girl under sharp supervision as if those restraints around her weren't enough (which they probably weren't). There were two iron droids outside of her room, which was located in the basement of the tower. While its location posed as a means to lessen the threat which was the girl's mere presence, she remained within reach should the inevitable happen.

The inevitable being now something he had contributed to.

Just as he finished meddling with the system of the last iron droid that served as a guard outside the cell, the doors opened and Steve stepped out with the girl, the latter of whom had donned new clothing which consisted of clothes he would only describe as modern. Her hair had been neatly brushed, and her skin didn't seem so pale now as it had before. Her clothes consisted of a short, open jacket made of soft fabric that revealed a white blouse inside, a pair of shorts that reached to her knees, and sneakers. Around her neck was a navy-blue scarf that almost completely concealed the skin of her throat. Bruce felt tempted to ask where it was Steve had gotten those clothes from, but he refrained .

If he didn't know any better, Bruce would have assumed that she was just another adolescent, though the blue glimmer in her eyes gave her away almost immediately to him.

She was considerably short when standing next to Steve; she could barely reach his shoulders, even if she had been standing on her toes. For some reason, Bruce couldn't help but immediately retreat a couple of steps upon seeing her. Whether it was a result produced from the fact that she had proved herself easily able to defeat them earlier, or because he still found her behavior unpredictable, he couldn't tell, but one thing was for certain; a part of him regretted what he had just done.

Steve inclined his head towards him. "Thanks, Bruce, for helping me with this."

"I hope you know what you're doing," was all Bruce could answer as he readjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose. He cast an uncertain look down at the girl, who was staring at him with round, childlike eyes that could deceive even the most proficient psychologist into believing that she was harmless. Blue eyes, glowing like sapphires reflecting light from the sun. It almost made Bruce remember that she was just a kid – a kid born under the wrong circumstances. He pitied her – rather, he felt sorry that things didn't turn out differently for her. That had been the most prominent contributing factor behind why he agreed to help Steve in the first place: _Hope_. That things could change for her.

He let out a sigh and crossed his arms over his chest. "I don't want her to go to Ross, but if this stunt of yours fails – if people are harmed, then you know who has to take responsibility, right?"

There was a moment of contemplation on the Captain's side before he nodded. "I know."

Bruce took a step to the side and had the way cleared for them. "You got five minutes until the security system is back."

"Thanks again, Bruce. I owe you,"

"Yeah, you do."

As Steve walked past him and towards the elevator, the girl followed closely behind him. However, for just a brief moment, she halted in her steps and turned to look at Bruce, to which he stiffened and felt the urge to back up, but couldn't. Otherwise, he would crash straight into the motionless droid behind him.

The girl just looked at him, blue eyes meeting his. It looked as though she wanted to ask him something, but didn't know how to do it or what to ask. He noticed how she didn't have the restraint around her neck anymore, but it was evident that she had tried on more than one occasion to remove it forcefully. There were marks on her skin that not even the scarf of hers could keep from sight.

If she wanted to, she could easily ambush and kill him, and a part of him waited for her to make the move. The Green guy was practically crawling beneath his skin like a maggot, just waiting for a sign that made it clear he could escape that flesh prison he was confined to. A single sign and all Hell would break loose.

It never came.

The girl simply looked at him one last time before she turned back and promptly followed behind the Captain, like a duckling following behind their mother.

Bruce just prayed that this would work. If it didn't, then he could have lives to answer for, and if there was one thing he was certain of, it was that he didn't want any more blood on his hands than he already did.

* * *

" _Again,"_

 _She obliged to the order, like an obedient dog following the orders of her master. Without even considering the consequences of her actions, she dodged as one of her targets charged at her with a blade, just barely missing her face though leaving behind a slight cut on her right cheek._

 _Taking a quick step to the side, she clenched her fist and watched without even blinking as her target's neck snapped to the side with an audible 'CRACK!' before he fell limp to the floor._

" _Target eliminated," she heard a voice say, after which she began to hear clapping echo through the training room. Her father entered the bloodied room, a smile spread across his lips. Seeing him content with her progress was enough to make her chest feel warm, but she did not smile in return._

" _Prodigious as always, dear," he praised her as he entered proximity. "What did I tell you, Wolfgang?" he called over his shoulder without ever looking away from her. "She would get better, she always does."_

 _He reached his hand forth to caress her cheek, completely oblivious towards all the blood on her clothes and all the corpses that were spread around her. Limbs laid several feet away from the rest of the bodies and decorated the walls and the floor with the same crimson liquid that had tarnished her own clothes._

 _It had taken her but ten minutes to eliminate them all. It had been a simple task, albeit a messy one._

 _Her Father suddenly stopped, and his smile grew vague. "You have something on your cheek, dear." He brushed his thumb over the cut on her cheek and withdrew it, a scowl befalling his countenance. "You were harmed." It wasn't a voice of assurance or concern (not that she was very familiar with such). Rather, it was a subtle accusation. He did not even take time to consider whether it was just a drop of blood from one of the corpses instead._

 _With both her hands behind her back like a soldier anticipating an order, she nodded and verified his suspicion, although she was aware of the consequences of her actions._

" _You allowed your target to get to you?"_

" _It was a complication. The target was –"_

 _Not even a second later, she was on the floor with blood pouring down her nostrils and mouth, eyes wide with shocked disbelief as the reality came crashing down on her in the form of a brutal blow to the face. It stung_

 _She spent several moments on her knees on the floor, her chest heaving and her mind still processing what had just happened._

 _When she tried to crawl back up again, she didn't get far before she felt something hard strike her in her abdomen, knocking all air out of her lungs and rendering her breathless for a good portion of the time she spent curled on the bloodied floorboards. The assaults kept coming, hitting everything from her ribs to her arms and legs, leaving behind countless abrasions and injuries that made it seem like all the blood that tainted her clothes had come from_ _ **her**_ _rather than the bodies that laid scattered around her._

" _ **Dear**_ _," her father spoke heavily as he continued to shove his feet onto her crawled-up body, stomping down the heel of his boot without as much as pausing at all. "You know that if you continue to stay weak, the world will tear you_ _ **apart**_ _. They will_ _ **harm you**_ _. The world is your_ _ **target,**_ _not your_ _ **ally**_ _; either you_ _ **kill them**_ _, or they will_ _ **destroy you!**_ _"_

 _He drew a few deep breaths before he finally ceased his punishments and took a step back, allowing her to unsteadily regain her stature. Her legs ached as they were forced to lift her weight up, and she had to hold her arm over her abdomen in an attempt to soothe the lingering pain. Several of her bones were undoubtedly fractured or otherwise dislocated from the trauma, some ribs felt cracked beneath her skin, and she had several abrasions covering her skin and cuts that were bleeding out and dripping to the floor. Her body was … **hurting** , but still, she forced herself to get back up, staring at her father like a child in fear of being scolded for misbehaving._

 _Then, all traces of displeasure vanished from his face and a soft smile resurfaced. He spread his arms open and embraced her wholly. His hold felt … cold, but she pulled herself closer to him regardless, feeling the bones beneath her skin ache as pressure was put on her._

" _The world is filled with_ _ **monsters**_ _, dear," he said soothingly and began to brush his fingers through her hair. "They will hurt you in unimaginable ways. I want to protect you from being hurt, do you understand? The rest of the world, they are our enemy. They always will be. You can't be fooled by them, nor can you allow yourself to get hurt by them. We stand alone."_

* * *

People.

Humans.

There were humans everywhere. So many of them, more than she could possibly hope to count on her own. Males, females, smaller people who sought guidance from the sides of their creators whilst holding their hands in the midst of the crowds. She had seen it all just briefly on her way there back when she first arrived, but this was another thing for itself.

She could hear them all. Thousands of different sounds and voices, all of whom were speaking individually with other humans, interacting with each other as they went by, not even stopping to pay her or Steven Rogers any notice, although Steven Rogers did earn himself a few noticeable glances due to his presence alone.

She was left standing there, marveling at the sight of the perimeter. Such loud noises, so many people. Never before in her life had she ever been surrounded by such … proximity. Even when she had been evaluated by the scientists during her regular procedures, they had never been this many in terms of quantity.

For some reason, it made her feel … small.

"Come on, kid," Steven Rogers said. "Let me show you a bit around New York."

She obliged and followed closely behind him.


End file.
